


The Best Weekend in Vegas

by TheTwistedWillow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Gay Marriage, Gay Sex, Gay vegas wedding, Las Vegas, M/M, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Saileen - Freeform, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Vegas Wedding, drunk married, gay wedding, married in vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-11-28 18:52:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTwistedWillow/pseuds/TheTwistedWillow
Summary: It's your classic, "Got so Drunk I Married My BFF in Vegas" trope, a la Dean and Cas. They're practically already married anyway, so let's make it legal (as much as one can for a dead guy and a former angel; seriously, just roll with it). We've got a little Sam and Eileen on the trip as well.





	1. Dean's POV

**Author's Note:**

> The rating on this fic has changed. The first chapter is smut-free and can be read as a stand-alone. The second chapter, however, is explicit.

The last thing Dean remembers is winning a shit ton of money, a weekend stay in the honeymoon suite at The Venus even though he's not married, and three intense rounds of the most vile drink known to mankind, only because of its potency. It actually tasted real nice, like black licorice. The night was a blackout from then on.

So the winnings explain the unfamiliar, but fancy, bathroom that he finds himself puking in this morning. His bloodshot eyes roam the room after he finishes and flushes, laying his warm cheek against the cool tile.

There's a glass-enclosed shower with dual shower-heads and a Jacuzzi tub on the wall to his left. On his right is a wall-length vanity with two sinks set in dark blue marble. And across from where he's laying, in front of the toilet, is the doorway.

Dean groans and pushes himself up to a sitting position after resting a few minutes, his legs splayed out in front of him, head-to-chest. He's only got on his dark red boxer briefs and the well-worn band t-shirt he wore under his flannel last night.

A noise from outside the bathroom catches his attention. He only has about twenty seconds to decide between checking it out or remaining close to the toilet before the decision is made for him when a dark-haired, former angel rounds the corner and stumbles in. He's clutching his stomach with his left arm and holding his right over his mouth.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean groans, rolling over to his hands and knees to crawl out of the way. The last thing Dean wants is to watch Cas puke ‘cause it'll just make him start retching again. He speed crawls out, pulling the door closed behind him, resting against it until his urge to vomit passes.

He knows he needs water and ibuprofen ASAP. Luckily he came prepared because this is Vegas, baby. Getting plastered and then recovering is just what ya do.

Dean pulls himself together enough to get up to find his duffel except his bag isn't here. With the lights off, curtains shut tight, he checks the closet, under the massive and mussed up bed, the dining table… but comes up empty. Even in the dark room he should've been able to find the big bag stuffed with his clothes.

He wishes he knew what happened after the big game he won. He and Cas must've come here straight after and didn't bother with getting their bags from the hotel they originally booked with Sam and Eileen.

While Dean shuffles around, grunting about lack of medication for his pounding head, Cas comes out of the bathroom grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes as if he can simply rub the pain out.

“Ugh, Dean, I never want to do that again.”

Dean huffs and manages a slight, amused smile, already holding up the hotel phone to place a call as Cas hangs out in his periphery. “You say that every time you get drunk.”

“This is different. This is the worst,” he grouses. He stops rubbing his eyes and takes in the room, eyebrows pulled tight. “Where are we?”

Dean doesn't answer Cas because room service just picked up on the other end of the line. Dean put in a request for a couple of hangover kits, pronto. He's pretty sure it isn't a thing but the person at the desk laughs and says, with too much cheer, “We know just how to take care of you. Be up in a jiff!”

Dean lets the phone clang back into its cradle and regrets the resounding noise instantly. It feels like fire ants are marching around and pissing on his brain with venom. Venomous ant piss. Sounds about right.

He lowers himself slowly to the bed and flings an arm over his eyes. “Remember poker?” he asks huskily. “We went a few rounds with those hotshots and I totally wiped ‘em. This room was part of the pot.”

Cas comes over and lays face-down on the other side of the bed, leaving a gulf of space between him and Dean. He groans in pain and mumbles, “I remember the start of the game but I don't remember this room, Dean.”

Dean lifts his arm and turns his head to squint at Cas. “Really? You must've been drinking behind my back cuz I know you're no lightweight. What's the last thing you remember?”

Cas is so silent and unmoving that Dean almost reaches out to shake him and make sure he didn't pass out. Or die. Because he's pretty sure that if Cas feels as ill as he does then death isn't far-fetched. But Cas shimmies his shoulders a little and turns his face toward Dean, his face pinched in concentration. Or pain. Or both.

“We finished blackjack, Sam and Eileen went off somewhere and we found the poker table.”

Dean closes his eyes and listens to Cas’ voice, replaying the events in his mind.

“A waitress kept bringing around those bright green drinks, you lost your first game and… I don't know. That's the last I remember. I don’t recall you winning.”

Dean can feel himself falling back to sleep but something Cas had said pings in his brain, startling him. Dean sits up so fast the room feels like it's tilting and vibrating at the same time, and his stomach rolls.

“Fuck. Where's Sam?” Dean reaches for his cell phone once he's sure his stomach and vision are both calm.

A knock comes at the door as Dean’s end of the line rings and rings. Cas grudgingly goes to answer and lets the young steward push a cart into the dark room, retreating only after shooting an embarrassed look between the two bloodshot-eyed and scruffy men, but neither of them notice.

Sam doesn't answer his phone so Dean leaves a message to tell him, “Not dead but wish I was. Call me.” Dean is pulled away from trying Eileen’s number to instead check out the tray that was delivered. They were sent an unopened bottle of ibuprofen, ginger ale, toast, bananas, a pitcher of water, and a plate full of greasy eggs and bacon.

“It's like the holy grail of hangover cures,” Dean says almost worshipfully. He still feels nauseated but he knows if he can get some of this in him it’ll pass much, much faster.  

He grabs the tray and carefully places it in the middle of the bed before climbing in. Cas crawls on his knees across the bed, sloshing a little bit of his water, and reaches out to hand Dean a glass before settling onto his left side across the tray. Dean slouches against the headboard to stay somewhat upright and keep the spinning of the room to a minimum, using his left arm behind his head for more support. 

“Here's to feeling better as soon as fucking possible,” Dean says, pausing dramatically before he slyly adds, “...so we can do it again tonight.”

Cas grimaces and reaches behind him to grab and pillow and chuck it at Dean’s head. Dean feels too ill to retaliate so he settles for stealing it. Cas still has another pillow so he doesn’t feel _too_ bad about keeping it. 

They blindly gulp down the pills and water, nibbling at the food first until their stomachs decide it's okay for them to eat more and a little faster. Dean can feel his nausea waning but his head is still killing him so he keeps his eyes pressed tight trying to will the prickly pain away. Sleep is probably the next best thing, especially before they head out again. With the curtains pulled tight he isn’t sure what time it is until he checks his phone and sees that it is just after 9:30 in the morning.

“I'm gonna go back to sleep. I left Sam a message so hopefully he found the hotel and is sleeping off his own crud.” Dean makes sure his phone isn't silenced and then sets it on his nightstand.

“I'm sure he is fine,” Cas says in monotone with an undercurrent of reassurance, moving the tray to his nightstand before he slides down and burrows under the thick, soft covers. It is the nicest bedding that Dean has ever had in a hotel or motel or anywhere in-between. He snuggles down on his side, hoping sleep comes fast and cures the rest of the hangover.

And Dean momentarily forgives himself for breaking one of his biggest rules: Thou Shalt Not Share a Bed with Cas. He reasons that they're both sick, the bed is spacious and they can be adults about this. Right?  
  
It’s not like he’s never seen Cas wandering the bunker in boxers or like they haven’t shared countless motel rooms. Granted, none of that involved them actually laying their bodies down to sleep, becoming vulnerable and culpable to whatever their bodies may do when they’re unconscious. Like, gasp, cuddling.  
  
Judging from the tangled and mussed up condition of it upon waking earlier, they had already shared the bed anyway. Dean had been so intent on making it to the bathroom before he lost the contents of his stomach that he didn't give a second thought to the lump of a person lying under the covers next to him, or in what state either was in upon waking. And Cas? Dean assumed he’d have been apologetic or ashamed or something but no! He is acting like they do this all the time. He tried to start a fucking pillow fight.  
  
Dean buries his face into a very Cas-scented pillow and squeezing his eyes shut tighter, the pounding of his temples creating white noise. He just has to focus on going to sleep, staying on his side, not worrying about last night or the fact that they woke up together when there’s a perfectly usable, comfortable couch across the room...

Dean is jolted awake by his phone and he automatically reaches out a hand to grab for it before his mind catches up to what is going on. He groans out a deep, “Hmm?”  

“Dean, everything okay? You said you wanted to die.” Sam's laugh and voice come through but Dean is barely registering it because his brain is now caught up and fully focused on the man next to him. Cas has scooted to Dean’s side of the bed, flat on his stomach, with one arm thrown across Dean’s abdomen.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. We’re fine. Uh, Cas is with me in case you were wonderin'.” And now comes the awkward part where Dean tries to explain that they're sharing a honeymoon suite instead of in their own, separate rooms down the hall from Sam, but it's all good and platonic, thankyouverymuch.

He decides deception is his friend, a little half-lie. He will just keep the whole honeymoon bit out because otherwise Dean would never hear the end of it. “So, uh, last night I hustled someone’s weekend stay at this swanky hotel so we stayed here because we were fucked up and it was close. It’s so clean you could lick the floors.”

Dean lowers his right arm from above his head, trailing his fingers along Cas’ arm, causing goosebumps to emerge and it makes Cas reactively squeeze Dean tighter. He stops tickling Cas’ arm and opts for laying his arm on top of it instead. Dean is so distracted he forgets Sam is talking.

“...didn't call sooner. I just woke up a few minutes ago.”

“S’okay. Cas is still sleeping it off. I'll call you when we're up. Meet for late lunch or dinner or somethin’?” Dean has no clue what time it is but he looks after they hang up and finds it is already four in the afternoon. Dinner it is.

Cas didn't stir during his conversation and Dean takes the rare moment to enjoy the weight and heat of Cas next to him. Cas’ hair curling against his forehead, his big full lips slightly parted, his back rising and falling in a slow peace-filled rhythm.  
  
Dean sighs and slowly moves Cas’ arm off of him, screws on his stern brotherly indifference and claps Cas hard on a shoulder blade and shakes him a few times until Cas grunts to indicate that he’s coming up from the depths of his slumber. “Cas, man, you should get up. We gotta get moving.”  
  
Dean sits up and almost regrets it. His head feels better but it’s still thick and foggy, like when you’ve been down with the flu for a week and then try to get up but don’t feel quite fully human again yet. He can hear Cas rolling over and stretching himself awake at his back so he peers over his shoulder to say something and does a double-take.  
  
Cas is rubbing his hands over his face, a bit of gold glinting off of his finger. They did not notice it earlier because of blurry, bloodshot vision and the intense pain of their throbbing brains, never mind they never turned on a single light.  
  
Right as Dean asks, “Where the fuck did you get a ring?” Cas is pulling his hand away to stare at the jewelry in offended confusion because he felt it rubbing against his face.  
  
Cas frowns. “I… don’t remember. Did you win it, maybe?”  
  
Dean shrugs and nods, breathing a sigh of relief, though not feeling completely relieved. “Yeah, prob’ly. Plenty of gamblers bid their own jewelry or buy a bunch of cheapos from pawn shops to gamble with.”  
  
Dean twists back around and notices the trifold pamphlet set up next to the phone and snatches it up, trying to blink away the lingering hangover to read it. It has a list of amenities as well as a menu.  
  
“Dude, check this out,” Dean says, scooting back to his spot against the headboard, tucking his left arm behind his head and crossing his ankles. Cas stays on his back, his fingers locked together to rest on his stomach because he isn't quite ready to start moving around. He peeks up at Dean, lifting his chin, and he looks so damn beautiful Dean has to tear his eyes away, lifting the paper up to his eye level.  
  
“So apparently this is an all-inclusive deal here. That means free meals, man. We hit the jackpot!”  
  
“I do suppose food is a decent win,” Cas says fondly with a lopsided smile. “But I would think most people consider a large sum of money to be a jackpot.”  
  
“Pssh, food trumps money any day. Grow up hungry most of the time and you’d understand.” Dean reads down the list, ignoring the small frown that replaces Cas’ smile. “There’s the regular stuff that everyone has access to, like the pool and a bar. But if we want to do the stuff you usually have to pay extra for, like a freakin’ massage, we just have to show the room key and we get a pass.”  
  
“Is that what you want, Dean? A massage?” Cas asks, his deep, husky voice lending a certain sexual tone to the otherwise innocent question. Dean can’t help it. His eyes immediately dart to Cas’ but Cas breaks the spell when he sighs and sits up. “Well I don’t see why not.”  
  
“Uh, yeah, might as well,” Dean mumbles, trying to control the swirling pit of want in his stomach. He knows it is the close proximity. He’s rarely ever alone-alone with Cas and before Cas was a permanent resident at Chez Winchester, he rarely stuck around for much longer than a case. But now Cas is human and he’s been living at the bunker for two months.  
  
The more he’s around, the harder Dean has to fight to keep his feelings under wraps. He was going to confess after The Darkness expelled Lucifer from Cas, but he chickened out because he feared Cas’ rejection. He had just gotten Cas back and didn’t want to scare him away, not with the threat of Amara still hanging about. He promised himself he’d do it after she was dealt with, but he still hasn’t quite gotten around to it.  
  
And then the time for the brother’s annual Vegas trip was upon them so of course Cas was coming. For the past few years the brothers got into this pattern of partying hard for two nights and spending the final morning with some R&R before driving home. Dean already knows what he’ll be doing for his rest day. He can practically feel the little, soft hands massaging his tense muscles until he is putty. Plus, swimming, duh.  
  
Dean was the one who encouraged a flustered Sam to invite Eileen so the group was an even number. Safety in numbers, except it backfired on Dean. Sam and Eileen abandoned them and the last thing Dean wanted was a hook-up with some random, perfumey floozy, and even more unwanted was Cas to end up with similar. Instead they somehow found themselves sharing a bed, having done who-knows-what last night, giving Dean all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.  
  
Dean sets the pamphlet down with one hand in favor of grabbing up his phone with his other to call Sam back and tell him that they're both up and wanting dinner. And that’s when he notices Cas isn’t the only one with a shiny object adorning a certain finger. He isn’t sure why he didn’t feel it before but it may have had to do with his overstimulated nerves and senses. Now that his hangover is all but gone, with only the lingering groggy feeling, the unfamiliar sensation of a ring on his fourth finger should have been obvious.  
  
Dean holds his hand up in shock, trying to come up with a reasonable conclusion as to why he would have it but this is Vegas and he isn’t a moron. One person wakes up with a plain gold band, fine, whatever. But two people wake up in bed together with matching gold bands and the most obvious answer will slap anyone in the face.  
  
Cas is up and coming around the bed, holding out the ring that he had had on for Dean to take back. Dean tries to hide his entire left hand under his thigh but it’s too late. He can tell by his abrupt halt three feet away, with the patented tilt-n-squint, that Cas saw Dean had a ring, too.  
  
“Dean?”

“Cas?”  
  
Neither of them speaks for what feels like a solid five minutes but is probably more like 30 seconds. Dean is panicking internally but he tries to reason with himself. First things first. He shifts around inconspicuously and tests his body out, pretty sure he didn’t have sex or at least bottom. He doesn’t recall any part of the sheets feeling crusty in the places that would be if they had had sex. Okay, phew. He doesn’t think they took it that far, which would probably fuck their entire friendship over if they had.  
  
Okay, rationalize this. So he won money, he won the room, he probably won the rings and they probably were so drunk that they thought it’d be funny to wear the rings up to the suite. Keep up pretenses, and all that. Yeah, yeah, that had to be it.  
  
Dean laughs nervously, bringing his hand back out to look at his hand. “Clearly we were really drunk and put ‘em on ‘cause of winning this room. It’s a honeymoon suite, Cas. Ya know, for newly married people. No harm done, right?”  
  
Cas furrows his brow, still holding the ring. “So should we still wear them?” he asks, ignoring Dean’s question.  
  
Dean thinks a moment, embarrassed by how much he likes the idea of traipsing around Vegas pretending to be hitched to Cas, but nods because if they’ve got the room and amenities for the weekend they should probably look the part. He taps the pamphlet on the table next to him. “Yeah, would probably help keep up appearances for our stay.”  
  
Not that anyone would care. So long as the room was paid for they probably didn’t care if you were rooming with a one-eyed, triple-nippled alien from Jupiter.  
  
Cas looks uncertain and uncomfortable, though, so Dean amends his statement, his heart sinking. “Unless you don’t want to. I doubt they’ll look close, Cas.” This is exactly why he friend-zoned him a couple months ago, because Cas doesn’t want anything with someone as damaged as Dean, or maybe even a guy at all.  
  
He still isn’t sure where Cas stands on the latter issue. His full-blown angel self may have been indifferent to sexual orientation as far as what other people did but does that mean he orients himself one way or another, or all the ways, or none of the ways?  
  
He knows that Cas had sex with April and that’s about it, and he certainly doesn't pick up on any of Dean's flirting or propositions, like that time he found out Cas was a virgin. He had hit on the guy relentlessly and used his 'last night on earth' speech, to no avail, so he whisked Cas off to a brothel instead. Probably not Dean's greatest moment, taking an angel there, and at the time they were still getting to know one another. If he had a do-over...  
  
Dean sighs loudly and stands, tired of sitting around, suddenly anxious and jittery. He wants food and he wants coffee.  
  
“It’s okay,” Cas murmurs, broken away from his own thoughts the moment Dean stood, and he slips the ring back on. He rounds the bed to grab his pants where they were discarded last night. Dean tries to not imagine them stumbling into the room in a fit of laughter, unbuttoning each other’s pants, his hands roaming up Cas’ chest, feeling his lips… everywhere...  
  
“We don’t have our things,” Cas says, his voice violently shattering Dean’s fantasy.  
  
“Oh yeah,” Dean says haltingly. He clears his throat and screws on a smile. “No sense in paying for rooms we aren’t using. We should probably cancel the rooms at the other place and grab our crap.”  
  
Cas exhales loudly and rolls his eyes, slipping his pants on over his boxers. Dean looks away to find his own pants. Watching Cas right now is the opposite of a strip but still a tease. “Speak for yourself. I don’t own crap.”  
  
Dean forces a chuckle and finds his pants peeking out from underneath the bed. He pulls them on, feeling the familiar lump of his wallet in a back pocket, the Impala keys in the front. “Well, let’s go get my crap and your non-crap crap then.”  
  
They’re about to walk out the door when Dean remembers that he doesn’t have the room key. “Hold up, do you have the key?” It’s not in his pockets, in the kitchenette, the nightstand or anywhere.  
  
Cas checks his pockets and then pulls out his wallet to flip through the few things he has tucked within, shaking his head.  
  
Dean pulls his wallet out, wondering if there’s a fine if they lose a key, wondering how they lost a key in the first place since they’re in the room. He is relieved to find a folded up piece of paper with, thank Chuck, the plastic credit-card-style room key. He tosses the paper onto the dining table without looking at it, assuming it’s a receipt, and tucks the room key into a credit card slot in his wallet so it’s secure.  
  
After they clear out of their original hotel, halfway across town from their new one, Dean bangs obnoxiously loud on Sam’s door. He had forgotten to call him back and give him fair warning. “Rise and shine, Buttercup,” he yells, not caring one lick for the other hungover bastards most likely hiding in their rooms in this stretch of hallway.  
  
Sam opens the door slightly, shirtless, with his hair in his face. Dean smirks when it is obvious that Sam is taking up as much space in the slightly ajar door in order to keep the guys from seeing inside his room. Cas is standing stoically behind Dean, unperturbed by Sam’s twitchy behavior.  
  
“Come on, get the lead out, Sammy. We’re gonna go get Eileen while you get ready,” he adds slyly, assuming she’s already in the room with Sam and the reason he’s acting strange. She's the only one that left with him last night, after scandalous flirting.  
  
“Uhhh, not necessary. Just- just wait right here. Don’t go get her.” Sam slams the door in their faces.  
  
Dean pivots around with a look of glee, nudging Cas. “Cha-ching! Looks like somebody got lucky last night,” he exclaims.  
  
Cas returns his smile. “That is great. He’s not the only one who _got lucky_ last night. You got lucky, too.”  
  
Dean’s heart slams to a full stop. Did he just say- did they- why is he-? His questions come so fast he cannot finish one before another starts, but all he manages to say out loud is a dumb, “Uh, what?”  
  
“Your big poker game, Dean?” Cas asks, worry stitching his brows together, like he’s wondering if Dean is one fry short of a Happy Meal.  
  
Dean bursts out laughing. “Dude, ‘ _got lucky’_ is a way to say someone slept with someone else. Ya know, sex?”  
  
“Ah, well that would explain your look of confusion because you did not sleep with anyone that I am aware of. Well, except me, of course.”  
  
“Okay, you just gotta stop talking, you’re making it worse.” Dean rubs a hand over his face, and it happens to be the hand with a ring on it, reminding him of their weird night. Or not reminding him of it, since he can’t remember much.  
  
When they first went out on the Strip last night, the four of them stuck close to the hotel. They loaded up on greasy food, even Sam, to hopefully lessen the blow of a major hangover because Dean planned to get absolutely and totally wasted, gamble, and have a blast. They’ve all fucking earned it.  
  
From there they moved onto a casino and when Cas held back, deliberately getting behind on his drinks, Dean had to give him a heart-to-heart. Which was actually more of a bitch fit that turned into a highly encouraging monologue about all the things Cas has done for the world, for the brothers, and how deserving he was of a weekend off from the hunting life. It got embarrassingly, drunkenly sappy but it worked.  
  
When Cas is upset drinking, you do not want to be in his path. But when Cas is happy drinking? He morphs into someone a little more charming, despite the lame jokes, and becomes extremely flirtatious. Which would explain the women and the occasional man that kept trying to steal Cas’ eye. Dean was pretty sure Cas was oblivious to all but one, because she had the balls to approach Cas directly, but Dean was highly aware.  
  
He remembers thinking to himself that he really, really should find someone so he can get over Cas and move on. And yet a glance around each bar and each casino revealed no one that could light a candle to the person sitting next to him, grinning and pink-cheeked. To look at him no one would know that he had plunged into the bowels of hell in winged glory to retrieve Dean’s sorry ass, or that he used to smite beings with just a touch. While his powers were nice, and certainly helpful, it isn’t what made Dean fall in love with him.  
  
Oh yeah, Dean is well aware of how he feels. It doesn’t mean he broadcasts it.  
  
Cas’ powers were attractive, yes. But Dean fell in love with the weird, dorky little guy behind all the muscle and grace, who listened to Dean and made him believe in himself. Like the guy sitting across from him asking Sam, “Why can’t bicycles stand on their own?” with the terrible punchline, “Because they’re two tired.” Everyone groaned but Dean grinned into his drink, side-eyeing Cas.     
  
Eventually Sam and Eileen had drifted off to the slot machines, Sam’s hand on her waist to guide her away, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll catch up!” Dean and Cas didn’t see them for the rest of the night.  
  
Cas was really good at blackjack and liked it but Dean was itching to play poker so he scoped out the several tables going and chose a group that included a married couple and some other men who looked loaded. He lost the first round so the second go had an even more enticing pot to win. He held back on his drinks so he could focus, not realizing Cas was behind him enjoying one too many shots of the absinthe a waitress was passing around.  
  
When Dean stood up from the poker table and turned around, Cas was waiting with three shots of absinthe just for him, sweaty and flushed. Dean hammered the triple shots back quick because Cas was raising a single eyebrow at him, challenging him, so of course he had to do them. He'd never live it down if he refused.  
  
The absinthe burned on the way down and by the time he set down the last glass, Dean was at the mercy of whatever drunken hallucinations assaulted him. And… that was that.  
  
Sam’s door opens again, and out comes Sam with Eileen right behind. She’s wearing a look that dares anyone to say anything. Looks like Dean and Cas aren’t the only ones to cancel their original rooms. When Eileen turns and can’t see Dean’s lips he grins at Sam. “Way to go, tiger. Let’s go get some fucking food now, because I’m starving." He nudges Sam hard in the ribs. "I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite yourself.”  
  
Sam punches him on the shoulder. “Hell yeah, I did.”  
  
Sam gives up shotgun to Cas in order to sit with Eileen in the back of the Impala and Dean has the brilliant idea of going back to The Venus for dinner before they head out again. They’ll go in, order the dine-in room service, and then go out to barhop and gamble. Dean is itching to play craps. Hell, maybe he already played last night, but tonight he wants to remember. He should go easier on the alcohol.  
  
Dean tells them about the room and the hotel as they drive while Sam looks confused but agrees to dinner there. Who can refuse free food?  
  
They make their way through the plush, high-ceilinged lobby and make a beeline for the elevators. Once inside Dean pulls his wallet out to get the key and Sam whistles at the bulk of it. “How much did you win, geez?" His eyes fall to Dean's hand and he relaxes against the railing as the elevator raises them higher into the building, his lips curling up into a cheeky grin. "So how's that ring feel?”  
  
“Oh. That.” Dean pulls out some of the money out and hands it to his brother to use later. He knew Sam would notice the rings at some point but hadn't really come up with a plan on how to explain them.  
  
“Dean and I are pretending to be married,” Cas interjects.   
  
“Pretending huh?" He looks between Cas and Dean with uncertainty, chewing his lip, Eileen watching them all with an indecipherable expression. "Okay, uh, where did you get them from?”  
  
Dean gives a half-hearted shrug as the elevator doors open and they get into the room. “I can’t remember but I think I won the jewelry, too. The suite is for honeymooners and I'm pretty sure their rules are strict so we put on the rings," Dean says easily. He doesn't actually know if there are strict rules. "It's no big deal. We do undercover shit all the time.”  
  
“You don’t know if you won them?” Sam's eyes are wide and his mouth hanging open. He pulls himself together, brow pulled into upset wrinkles when he glances at Eileen who shrugs. Dean gets a little irritated under the scrutiny and, yeah, he supposes it is really odd but he's done weirder stuff when drunk.   
  
“Hey man, last night is a blur. I woke up here vomiting my pretty little brains out, thank you, and the last thing I remember is winning a badass round of Texas Hold ‘Em. It’s not my fault those idiots gambled away their rings and fancy suites.”  
  
Dean puts his back to everyone and heads to the phone to order food, getting a variety of dishes to look less conspicuous because he’s sure ordering four steak plates may make the staff suspicious that they have friends over for free food. Cas sets his bag on the end of the bed on his way to sit at the dining table while the happy little couple take the couch, sitting thigh-to-thigh and signing something to each other.  
  
He pretends to not hear Sam in the background asking about the sleeping arrangements and then laughing with whatever Cas says in response.  
  
As soon as Dean hangs up and stands someone has their hand wrapped around his bicep, tugging him toward the bathroom. “Whoa, Cas, maybe you should buy me dinner before manhandling me.” The door shuts behind them.  
  
“What is this?” Cas' voice rumbles low, handing Dean the now unfolded piece of paper he had left in the room earlier.  
  
“I don’t know, a receipt?” He takes it and looks it over, feeling like he’s going to be sick again. He trips over to the toilet and sits down hard on the closed lid.  
  
Well he wasn’t wrong. It is a receipt, for a marriage license. A real, bonafide marriage license. Apparently at 11:18pm, according to said receipt, they had gone into the county courthouse and gotten one.  
  
He lifts wide eyes up to Cas’ stormy ones and swallows hard. “I think I know what we did last night?” he offers weakly.  
  
“Is this what humans do? Get marriage licenses in the middle of the night? Why would we do that?”  
  
“Well, in Vegas, yeah it’s what some humans do.” Dean rubs a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp for the headache that is returning. He remembers looking up the laws when Becky Rosen tricked Sam into marriage. It is possible to obtain a marriage license before midnight and with proper identification. And when you take it to any of the bazillion chapels or churches in the county, they’ll marry you and send off the completed paperwork so you can carry on in wedded bliss.  
  
Dean just so happens to have his new legal ID, connected to his new-ish SSN, on him for this trip. And Cas has the “Castiel Smith” one that they created when he became human, and for all intents and purposes make him a full-blooded American, human-being, on planet Earth. So they can’t even rip this up and say, ‘Oh well, our fictitious undercover characters got hitched.’  
  
“Look, man, I know as much as you. I- I have no idea what we did. But absinthe can seriously fuck with you. Looks like we got carried away.” Dean hangs his head and folds the paper back up. “Shit. I’m sorry, Cas.”  
  
“Why are you sorry?” Cas asks in surprise. Dean raises his head at the change in tone.  
  
“I dunno, maybe because I value our friendship and this is the last thing that _you_ want and now we have the hassle of trying to fix it.”   
  
A knock comes, causing both men to jump. “Dean? Room service is here,” Sam loudly whispers through the door. “What the fuck are you two doing in the bathroom together anyway? Powdering your noses?" Sam changes his tone to one that sounds slightly disgusted. "Hey, are you guys making out?”  
  
To Cas Dean says, “We’ll talk about this later. Just… don’t say anything.” To Sam he opens the door and says, “No, Sam, we're discussing how I want to tell you about the sex change that I'm getting." Dean rolls his eyes. "Here, you two hide in here, quick. Cas and I’ll get the door.”  
  
A different steward greets them from the morning and asks to enter the room, pushing a cart in toward the dining table near the window. He slides open the curtains to reveal a neon-and-sunset cityscape that is an impressively collaborated vision of the natural and manmade.  
  
Dean tips the man and he bows in thanks. “One final thing before I go. We would like to know if we can put you down for the turndown service tonight?”  
  
“Is that something we had last night?” Dean asks, suddenly in interrogator mode. Maybe this guy remembers them from last night and could shine a light on their behavior.  
  
The man chuckles. “You refused it, sir. You, pardon my saying, were a little eager to get upstairs and didn’t want to wait.”  
  
Dean can feel himself blanching, every drop of blood plummeting to his toes. He isn’t sure he wants to know what a turndown service is and why they were too eager to refuse it but he asks anyway. “Oh? How’s that now? We-” Dean forces a laugh, “-we don’t really remember that.”  
  
It’s the man’s turn to lose his color. “You both were just, um, handsy? I apologize, sir, I didn’t mean anything untoward.”  
  
“Nah,” Dean wheezes out. “Don’t sweat it. What is this service you’re asking me about?”  
  
“It’s a complimentary service where we prepare the room and change the bedding so it’s fresh-and-ready when you get back from your evening activities.”  
  
Normally Dean doesn’t like housekeeping in their room but this is a vacation and they aren’t hiding shotguns and angel blades under the bed. “Uh, yeah, that should be okay.” He looks at Cas. “Okay?” Cas just nods, turning to walk toward the dining table, done with the interruption.     
  
“Excellent. If you’ll just leave this door hanger on the outside of the door when you leave then we will be happy to do that for you. Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you during your stay. And congratulations again, sirs.”  
  
Dean slowly shuts the door and rests his forehead against the cool, solid wood a moment, wondering just how handsy they had been. He was so certain they hadn’t done anything. One or both of them must have passed out.  
  
Dean remembers their two guests hiding in the bathroom so he raps on the door loudly to let them know they can come out now. Sam and Eileen take their time, coming out a little more ruffled than when they had entered, swollen-lipped with twinkly eyes. It’s a good look on Sam, he’s happy for him, and hopefully whatever they have will bleed into real life after Vegas weekend.

Everyone shares between the four plates: a creamy mushroom and leek angel hair pasta, a grilled chicken salad, a steak with baked potato, and a lobster on a bed of baked macaroni-n-cheese. After the flurry of dividing up the plates is done and everyone is sat down Dean finds himself staring at his plate but not wanting to eat.  
  
It’s hitting him, now, the gravity of it. He’s tried so hard to be careful about Cas and one Vegas trip unravels it all. What is he supposed to do? How else does he interpret the visceral anger he saw on Cas’ face? Or the fact that Cas walked off shortly after the steward mentioned their ‘eagerness’. What the hell actually happened?  
  
He looks across the small table and Cas is actively avoiding Dean’s gaze, his left hand held down under the table and out of sight. Sam and Eileen are back on the couch and so into each other that he and Cas are left with the heavy, awkward silence.  
  
Dean knows Cas is gonna leave. He is going to hate Dean and he’s going to leave once they get this sorted. Dean has a desperate thought that maybe they can get their mitts on hotel security footage but he squashes the idea as quickly as it comes to him. He doesn’t want to see it. He’ll just take the hotel employee’s word.  
  
Dean knows he has to eat even if he doesn’t feel like it so he plasters on a smile and makes work of the food. Maybe getting inebriated is the best idea for the next part of the evening. He can forget the troubles, get through the night.   
  
Married, fuck. What would that even look like, if they could have it? They've been friends for years and gone through literal hells. But they've never kissed, never talked about this connection or bond or whatever Cas had called it. They just skipped ahead to a matrimony that they don't even remember.

Dean pushes his half-finished plate away and ushers everyone out the door to pile into the Impala. Cas rides in silence, his hands pressed together between his thighs like he is collapsing in on himself while Sam and Eileen sit in content companionable comfort in the back.  
  
They end up at a garish 80's inspired bar. The four of them huddle around a tall, chairless table, the black-lit room causing anything white to glow an ethereal blue, including their teeth. Flashes of neon and the overwhelming smell of hairspray do nothing for Dean, especially the bubblegum pop music pulsing around them but this is the first place out of the gate and he’s begging a drink. A waitress skates by with tubes of glowing alcohol and Dean has a feeling this isn’t going to be a whiskey and scotch kinda place.  
  
They all take a shot of the weird liquid, which has that bitter back-end but a sweet note on top like black cherry, and he admits to himself that he really likes it. He takes another and notices Sam staring at him. His brother leans over and talks loud enough to be heard over the din.  
  
“Hey, I get keeping the ring on for the hotel but, dude, how can I be your wingman if you’ve got it on now?”   
  
Dean’s mind goes blank. He casts a glance at Cas but he’s signing something to Eileen. If he tells Sam he’s not interested in a hookup and keeps the ring on then Sam'll know something’s up. If he takes the ring off then Sam will be intent on playing matchmaker tonight, which may have been fine if 1). Dean was interested in random sex anymore, and 2). if he didn't just find out that he's fucking _married._  He really wishes he could have finished his conversation with Cas earlier but right now he needs to respond and quick.  
  
Procrastination, it can be useful. He waves a hand at Sam in a dismissive gesture. “Later, let’s go somewhere else. I think my hair just grew three sizes poofier just being in here.”  
  
They pay for their test tube shots and head back out, walking this time, the Impala parked in a valeted garage until the end of the night. Sam and Eileen take the lead, with his hand on her lower back, so Dean hangs back and slows down in hopes Cas will slow down and they can talk.  
  
Cas doesn’t seem to take the hint and by the time they’re in the next block they are entering a bar that is more Dean’s speed. The atmosphere is overtly masculine with wide plank floors and saloon style doors. The furniture is all hardwoods and the bar itself, where the drinks are mixed and served, is a throwback to the Wild, Wild West. The thrum of noise is more a buzzing than deafening.  
  
They pick a booth. “Thank God, I can hear myself think,” Dean says, grinning up at the group. Eileen hikes a brow and he back-peddles fast. “I mean, no offense.”  
  
Eileen grins and shakes her head, dropping her act. “Lighten up, it’s fine! I’m not someone who is easily triggered.”  
  
Sam laughs and reaches across the table to clap Dean on the shoulder. “Seriously, both of you take off the damn rings. I am on a mission tonight to help you boys out. Because, as Eileen said, you need to fucking lighten up and get laid. You especially,” Sam says, wagging a finger in Dean’s face.  
  
Dean looks down at his hands in his lap and out of the corner of his eye he sees Cas ball up the hand he has resting on the bench next to his thigh.  
  
“She didn’t say anything about getting laid,” Dean throws back.  
  
“Yeah, well, I made an addendum," Sam says absently, looking at a laminated card on the table with a list of specials.   
  
Dean hesitates long enough to get an eyebrow raise from Sam once he sets down the card, which gives Dean enough courage to slip the ring off and slide it into his pocket. He looks off to his left so he can’t see if Cas follows suit and his face is met with a pair of breasts as their waitress comes upon the table.  
  
“What can I get ya?” she asks, peering down at Dean. Sam kicks him under the table and Dean kicks back, turning to glare at his brother.  
  
“Whiskey, neat,” Dean says in practiced smoothness, refusing to look at her. The rest of the group put in their drink order while Dean fiddles with his cardboard coaster.  
  
He feels a hand light on his shoulder when Tammy-the-Waitress says she’ll be right back.  
  
“Alright, the night is early but you should ask when she’s off. She’s totally into you, Dean.” Sam meets his eyes with a devilish grin, which should probably be an outlawed term to describe Sam since the devil himself possessed him. Dean shudders. Perhaps a thought for another time.  
  
Dean decides to go for a more honest route without actually being fully honest. “Nah, not feelin’ it. I want to hit up that casino a few streets over, and I’ve still got more drinkin’ to do.”  
  
The drinks are brought back quick, Tammy unnecessarily leaning over the table to pass Cas an Amaretto Sour in order to show off her assets. Normally Dean would appreciate the dominating presence of a provocative woman but he just learned two hours ago that the guy next to him is his husband. But even before then he's been pining for the guy and hasn't put himself out there all that much, especially not with Cas present.   
  
The thought 'Cas is my husband' is so jarring that Dean practically vaults himself into the back of the bench and out of her space. Cas finally looks at him with a quizzical squint and down-turned lips. And that is when Dean notices Cas’ left hand around his glass. He stubbornly refused to remove his ring and Dean feels like a total asshole.  
  
Oh God, he’s got to get out of here. Dean takes his drink in two big swallows and is up and paying for them in record time with the word ‘husband’ playing on repeat in his brain. Hating the sound of it, loving the sound of it. Hating that he loves the sound of it.  
  
“Where’s the damn fire, Dean? We’re easing into it after eating all that food,” Sam says, taking gigantic strides across the bar to join Dean at the door, the other two close behind.  
  
Dean shrugs. “I just wanna move onto the next part of the night. Ya know, the 'gambling and drunk' part?”  
  
“You could’ve hustled back there. They had a few pool tables with plenty of people playing. You know what, forget it? We’re supposed to be bar-hopping so let’s just check out one more and then we’ll get to the casino, Thorp.”  
  
They start walking, the streets filled with headlights and moving bodies. There’s a palpable energy in the air, from the random street artists singing or playing instruments, to the homeless begging for change, to the scantily clad women trying to pick up Johns.  
  
A trio of cross-dressers in glossy high heels and skintight dresses pass by, arms locked, laughing deeply with their heads thrown back at a joke that everyone else has missed. A guy with a black leather jacket and a turquoise mohawk pushes past Dean, his head down, in a hurry. Dean instinctively grabs his wallet, moving it to his jacket pocket and zipping it up, relieved he wasn’t just pickpocketed. But mostly it's the average person milling about, elbowing their way to the casinos and strip clubs.  
  
The air smells like exhaust, cigarettes and cheap perfume. In past trips Dean had soaked it all in and reveled in it, letting the energy vibrate through him and pull him into the excitement and flurry. But tonight he just feels tired, weary and anxious.  
  
Once again Sam and Eileen have taken the lead. And this time Cas is keeping stride with Dean but Dean doesn’t know what to say and on this particular stretch it’s too loud to be heard. They get to a club, of all things, and there's no line. Dean is about to protest but Sam is already heading in.  
  
It’s pretty standard as far as clubs go. The room is booming from the electronic noise they have the nerve to call music, and there are far more people packed inside than Dean had thought there would be. Those that are too cool to be gyrating on the dance floor are hanging back in leather clad, half-moon booths with brightly colored mixed drinks and smokes. On the stage some people are dancing a lot more sensually, probably paid, but possibly patrons. It's hard to tell.   
  
Sam manages to snag one of the booths, he and Eileen sliding in to meet in the middle. So Dean scoots in next to Sam, Cas next to Eileen. Too late he thinks that is a bad idea because it is nearly impossible to keep his eyes trained away from Cas’ taut face.  
  
He can tell that Cas doesn’t want to be out anymore than he does, not with something huge looming over their heads, but this is Sam’s vacation, too. He can’t just hide in the hotel room. Dean surveys the room to keep himself distracted, especially as Sam seems to enamored by the pretty brunette at his side.  
  
And that’s when he spies him. Two tables over to his right are two guys and a girl. One of the guys has his arm around the girl’s shoulder, but Third Wheel? He’s got his sights set on none other than Castiel. Dean feels a roil of heat in his gut that flares hotter the longer the guy hems and haws about making a move.  
  
It’s not that the guy is bad looking, in fact he looks more like he could be Dean’s brother than Sam. He is genuinely nervous, licking his lips and touching his hair, eyes roaming over Cas in interest without the ravaging leer that some people can have. He says something to his friends and they try to inconspicuously look Cas’ way before nodding at Third Wheel and making gestures.  
  
Third Wheel places a palm against his chest and smooths his shirt down against an imaginary tie, nodding to himself while taking a deep breath. Shit, he’s coming over. He takes a few steps but stops when a waitress steps up to Dean's table to ask for their orders, temporarily blocking the guy.  
  
They go around the table once again to order, same song and dance, different bar. Cas gets up to use the restroom after he orders, which is located toward the back. Dean squirms in his seat, watching as Cas’ black Henley-clad back retreats through the throngs of people. And he’s not the only one watching. Third Wheel seems to like his chances of talking to Cas away from the table and places himself in a position where he can easily stop Cas on his return trip.  
  
Before Dean can string a coherent, rational thought together he’s pulling the ring out and putting it back on. Until they get shit sorted Cas is going to just have to suck it up and be okay with it because Dean is not about to let this guy weasel his way in.  
  
The waitress comes back with their drinks and Dean swallows it down before she’s even had the chance to step away from the table. He is starting to feel the familiar warm buzz that indicates he is loosening up. When t waitress moves on to her next table and out of Dean’s line of sight he can see that Cas is heading back. He is taking long, confident strides back to the table, the glint of the ring flashing from the strobe lights manically blinking above.  
  
Third Wheel takes a step into Cas’ path maybe ten feet from the table, startling him. As the guy leans closer to be heard over the noise Cas stares at him in cool indifference, then confusion and then panic. He looks past Third Wheel’s shoulder and straight at Dean.

Cas barely knows how to respond to a woman hitting on him, much less a man, and Dean is pretty sure he’s straight as an arrow. Protective rage and jealousy course through Dean.  
  
“Hey, where are you-” Sam calls as Dean steps out of the booth and approaches Cas.  
  
“I am flattered but-” Cas is saying loudly when Dean gets close.  
  
“There you are,” Dean says coolly to Cas but his eyes are locked onto Third Wheel. He steps close, pressing his shoulder into Cas’ and standing as straight and tall as he can, glaring.  
  
“You his friend?” Third Wheel asks loudly, looking Dean over.  
  
Dean laughs derisively and nudges Cas. “You hear this guy, Cas? He wants to know if we’re friends.”  
  
Cas scowls, his brow stitching together. “But we are friends, Dean.”  
  
“Yeah, and you know who gets _married_ ?” Dean holds up his left hand and watches Third Wheel clench his jaw in understanding. “Best friends, that’s who. So beat it, kid.”  
  
Third Wheel mumbles what Dean assumes and hopes is an apology but they can’t hear over the noise and Third Wheel returns to his group. When Dean turns back to Cas to laugh off the whole incident, and hopefully calm his racing heart, there’s fistfuls of his shirt in one red-hot Cas’ hands, pushing him toward the nearest wall.  
  
“Uh, Cas?” Dean gasps. He knows he doesn’t need to fear the guy, especially when he no longer has the ability to smite someone on contact, but Cas is looking him over so intently that it’s frightening. Dean won’t strike him back so he tenses and waits for a blow, but Cas is looking over every inch of Dean’s face and chest. His eyes settle on Dean’s lips and linger there for several heartbeats before snapping up to Dean’s eyes.  
  
“Cas! What the hell is going on with you two tonight?” Sam says from over Cas’ shoulder, pulling on Cas to encourage him to let go of Dean. Cas uncurls his fists and shakes Sam’s hand off of him, retreating to the table where Eileen is waiting.  
  
“He’s been silent and you’ve been twitchy. What the hell is going on, Dean?” Sam says in barely-controlled anger. Sam can be patient... to an extent.   
  
Dean straightens out is his button-up shirt and shakes his head in confusion. He could’ve sworn Cas was going to kiss him but why the manhandling? Maybe Cas had wanted to hook-up with Third Wheel and he misinterpreted Cas’ expression of panic.   
  
“Fuck, I don’t know.” And he’s being totally honest for once tonight.  
  
“Just so you know, I’m about to ditch your asses,” Sam says, wagging a finger at Dean. His brother’s face is flushed and his eyes shiny from alcohol. “You’re dragging us out of one bar just as soon as step foot inside. Can you try to have a good time, man?”  
  
Dean lets out a long breath. “How about we ditch this techno pit and find us a table to play some cards then?”  
  
Sam grins. “Best idea you’ve had all night!” Dean is about to tell him he’s been tossing out that idea _all_ night but Sam is already walking off to pay their tab.  
  
The air is as fresh as fresh can be in Vegas when they step outside of the stifling claustrophobia of the night club. Sam links his hand with Eileen and they start off down the sidewalk at a slow pace with Dean and Cas falling in step behind. It's too crowded to avoid one another and Dean's head is clouded with way too many emotions and zero outlet for them.    
  
Unbeknownst to him a big, burly biker type is heading in Dean’s direction, pushing his way against the swarm of people. Dean has his hands shoved in his pockets, his head down trying to think clearly through his inebriated fog so he doesn't see Sam pull Eileen out of the way, putting Dean on the guy's path. They collide, painfully.  
  
“Watch where you’re fucking going, asshole,” the guys bellows, shoving Dean. The crowd behind them spreads in a wide arch.   
  
Dean rights himself and bellows back, “Who're you callin' an asshole, asshole?”  
  
“What’d you say to me?” The man curls his hands into fists and takes a step forward.  
  
This is just the thing Dean needs right now, something to hit, something to push all of his feelings into and get out with a blow. “Scrawny, really? I could kick your ass so bad not even your momma would recognize you.” He barely notices Cas has stepped up beside him.  
  
The man laughs darkly and reels a fist back but Dean is pushed out of the way so that Cas can plant himself in front of him.  
  
“Cas!” Dean exclaims in concern, irritation and oddly arousal, all rolled into one heart-racing emotion. They’ve been in more fights than he could ever count, so he’s pretty sure he can handle a rude civilian. But there's something about Cas taking charge that does it for him, turns him on like nothing else.  
  
Cas’ fist collides with the doughy face of the biker, knocking him sideways. He doesn’t wait for the man to collect himself before he knees him in the chest and shoves him to the ground.  
  
“Don’t talk to him that way,” Cas growls.  
  
“Fuck you and fuck your boyfriend,” the biker spits, gasping, probably intending to insult them or maybe he just has really great gay-dar.   
  
“He’s not my fucking boyfriend, he’s my husband, and you should show him some respect. Next time you feel the need to bully someone think of me kicking your ass and instead try apologizing for taking up more space than you should.” Dean has never heard Cas say so much profanity at one time. It is so hot but not hotter than Cas calling him his husband. Dean visibly shudders and stares at Cas’ profile in awe.  
  
“Shit, we better get out of here,” Sam says behind them, shaking him from his meandering thoughts. For the first time Dean notices the burgeoning crowd. Someone may have called the cops and he doesn’t want Cas spending the night in a holding cell. He grabs Cas’ biceps and pushes him through the tight wall of people.     
  
The four of them bolt down the block as soon as they’ve gotten through. By the time they reach the next crosswalk they’re panting, breathless from too much food and the alcohol they’ve consumed so far. They stare at each other until the brothers and Eileen burst out laughing. Cas just scowls at all of them.  
  
“I fail to see how that was funny. He was three times your size, Dean, and could have hurt you.” Cas turns a concerned glare to him.  
  
“Dude, Cas! You’re smaller than I am,” Dean wheezes out while trying to catch his breath. “Besides, I’m not your damsel in distress. I coulda taken him. I’ve taken on an entire vamp nest on my own.”  
  
Sam holds up a hand, interrupting whatever Cas was about to say. “Wait, what I want to talk about is this whole ‘husbands’ thing you two are playing at. We gonna talk about it?”  
  
“No!” Dean and Cas snap in unison. They simultaneously turn, the streetlight changing at just the right time to indicate they can cross the street. Dean’s heart is still beating faster than what he thinks is normal for running. He chances a glance at Cas but Cas just looks more stormy than before, his jaw clenched tight, his fisted hands swinging hard with each step.  
  
They really, really should talk about this. But first, more drinks.  
  
The air conditioning hits them hard as soon as they step foot inside the casino, the recycled air smells like stale cigarettes and freezer burn. Their feet sink into thick and brightly-patterned carpet that cushions them as they walk through the lobby, past a brand new car being touted as a prize, and make their way toward the card tables.  
  
Dean can hear the ping-ping-ping of various slot machines, lights flashing to entice customers to spend their quarters for the chance at a million dollars.  
  
“Hi, Sugar,” a Cigarette Girl says sweetly to Dean as their group approaches, a tray hung around her neck with a gold strap. She’s dressed in a tight tank top and short-shorts, offering a variety of cigarettes and candies.  
  
“He’s not your sugar,” Cas grouses as he walks right past her. Dean stares after him in shock and makes his feet move to follow. He wants to ask Cas what his problem is, his patience starting to fizzle out, confused by the mixed signals.  
  
When he reaches him at a bar, Dean says, “She’s just trying to sell her shit, Cas, chill out.”  
  
Cas either doesn’t hear him or chooses to ignore him. He turns around and offers Dean one of the two shots that the bartender just filled up for him. Cas does always seem to know when Dean needs a drink. They both take them and it gives Dean an idea. If he gets a few more in Cas then Cas will loosen up. Or it may backfire and he’ll end up with an even more sullen Cas but it’s worth the risk at this point. He, himself, can use the liquid courage.  
  
He gestures for Cas to turn back around and sit down. Seconds later Sam sits down on Dean’s other side. “Alright, guys, here’s the plan. We’re going to each take three more shots and then we’re goin’ over there,” he hitches a thumb toward the blackjack setup, “and kick some ass. Capiche?”  
  
Eileen nods after watching Dean’s lips before Sam turns to her to clumsily sign something. She tilts her head, glances past Sam to look between Cas and then Dean. She laughs loudly before signing something back. Dean really needs to fucking learn sign language so he knows what they’re saying behind his back. He decides to give them the finger and they both laugh harder.  
  
Dean signals the bartender to line them up with three shot glasses apiece. She does and then pours in a burning amber liquid, giving Dean a wink. He happens to catch Cas narrow his eyes and then he’s tossing back his first shot so Dean hurries to take his.  
  
In no time they’re all down and Dean’s stomach feels like it is on fire. He can feel the warmth spread through his chest, down his arms and up to his cheeks. He shakes himself a little, claps his hands and tells everybody to get their asses in gear. He tosses some bills on the sticky bar for their drinks.  
  
There isn’t much point in playing as a group if they want to win money but they stay together for two rounds for the pure fun of it. And then they lose Sam to Eileen. Apparently he’s forgotten that he was going to be the wingman tonight, which is fine by Dean. They need to figure out what the hell is going on, legally speaking, because Dean is anything but unfaithful so if they’ve got the real deal he shouldn’t be getting quickies in some random storage closet. The thought of it depresses him anyway. He’s over all of that. He just wants something… more.  
  
He looks up at Cas through his lashes, tapping the table for the dealer to give him another card.  
  
So they can handle it a couple of ways. Get an annulment on the grounds of Lack of Consent, which is what Sam did with Becky. Or they could mutually agree to let it be, but give each other the freedom to see other people. Husbands in name only. It could come in handy when in dire straits and either needs a power of attorney. Maybe it’ll mean Cas won’t leave, that he’ll have a solid reason to stay because far be it from Dean to simply ask Cas to stay, oh, for forever.  
  
Dean realizes he is fishing for reasons to keep it, holding onto any last shred of hope. His stomach had done crazy flips when Cas had called him his husband earlier after defending him. He felt a flare of possessiveness and of being claimed. He never thought he could have anything with anyone, at least not anyone outside this life. He never thought he'd hear someone call him their husband.  
  
Ever since losing his mom and then living in constant fear of losing his father, who would disappear for days and weeks at a time, Dean has only ever wanted someone to claim him, devote themselves to him, to remain faithfully by his side. And vice versa, to give himself over wholly as well. Is there anything wrong with that? He’s not sure. He’s probably crazy but he just wants someone to wake up with, someone he doesn’t have to give the ol’ ‘adios’ to and never see again, someone to share a special bond with…  
  
“Buddy, you going to show your hand?” the dealer asks, pulling Dean back to the present.  
  
Cas wins the hand with a self-satisfied smirk and Dean claps him on the shoulder in congratulations, standing to indicate he’s done and wants to move on. He doesn’t want to play anymore. He doesn’t want to drink anymore. What he really wants he can’t have but he’ll settle for the next best thing which is to clear the fucking air before he suffocates on his assumptions and fantasies.  
  
The room spins a little but he’s still got his senses about him. “Hey, man, I think I’m gonna head back to get the car and go back to the room.”  
  
Cas frowns at him. “Are you feeling alright?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Dean waves his hand. But he knows that lying to Cas, even if he is human now, is next to pointless. “Okay, no, I’m not fine.” Cas presses his lips into a tight line and nods once like he understands.  
  
“Well, I’ll go with you.”  
  
They cash in their chips and Dean shoots Sam a quick text to say he’s feeling sick and they’ll catch up tomorrow. Tomorrow being their R &R day. They’ll nurse any hangovers, swim, eat and Dean will get that fucking massage if it’s the last thing he does.  
  
Getting back to the hotel seemed to take longer than it took them to get to the casino. More people congested the sidewalks and at one point he had to clutch Cas’ bicep to keep from getting lost in the crowd. Cas didn’t seem to mind so he kept holding on, walking single-file behind him, even as the crowds died down the closer they got to the parking garage.  
  
It took almost an hour to reach Baby and claim her with his valet ticket, a nervous fluttering starting in his stomach as his drunkenness dies down to only a buzz. He knows he shouldn’t drive still but he just wants to get back to the quiet of the room and leave all the lights and noise behind. He blares music on the short ride to the hotel so they don't have to talk. Yet.  
  
This has shaped up to being one of the worst Vegas weekends he’s ever had.  
  
They make it inside the the near-empty hotel lobby a little after 11pm and he feels like they’re sticking out like sore thumbs. The two desk clerks raise their eyes to the men and Dean is reaching for Cas’ hand without a thought, tangling their fingers. He smiles for the benefit of the clerks and whispers, “They’re watching and probably wondering why we’re back early.”  
  
Cas smiles slightly and squeezes his hand in understanding.  
  
“Mr. and Mr. Winchester, so nice to see you both. Have a great night,” one of the clerks says as they pass closer and hearing that does nothing for Dean’s nerves, of course. How they can remember anyone by name is beyond him and he feels his cheeks flame at the insinuation that they all know why newlyweds would be back seemingly early on a Vegas weekend night. If only.  
  
Dean lets go of Cas as soon as the elevator doors close, trying to shake out the tension from his fingers by clenching and unclenching his fist. Dean pretends to be consumed by the task of finding the room key so he doesn’t have to meet Cas’ eyes or talk, but Cas just watches him with his usual quiet patience.  
  
Dean is preparing a speech in his head, an ice breaker to breach the uncomfortable topic of drunkenly marrying your straight best friend, probably in some skeevy chapel with people officiating in costume. Part of him is glad he can’t remember it because he’d probably never be able to look Cas in the eye again.  
  
He lets Cas walk into the room first, lost in his thoughts, and nearly collides with him when he stops short.  
  
“What the hell, Cas?” But nothing Cas could say would prepare Dean for the sight that greets him when he finally peeks around Cas to look at the room.  
  
“Why did someone put flower petals all over the bed? Are we in the correct room?” Cas walks further into the dimly lit room, past a bucket holding ice and a bottle of champagne, to poke at one of the flameless battery-powered candles lining the shelf on top of the headboard. Someone had sprayed something sweet and floral, Dean thinks it is lavender, so the room was pleasant not only to sight but to smell.  
  
“Oh shit. Turndown service. In a honeymoon suite,” he groans. The whole room is sickeningly romantic and it doesn’t help the already embarrassing situation. Dean just wants a hole to open up and swallow him. He opts for the next best thing and goes to hide in the bathroom.  
  
The bathroom is in a similarly hideous display of romanticism, with batteried candles flickering their light against the walls and mirror. He groans in frustration, arms stretched on the sink vanity for support, hanging his head. He doesn’t want to lose his friendship. He doesn’t want Cas to leave. He’ll go out there and present Cas with the options he came up with and go along with whatever Cas decides.  
  
Dean pulls the door open, steeling himself to speak but a new surprise catches him off guard. Cas is stripping down to his boxers and changing his clothes, his back to Dean. Of course Dean has had his fair share of seeing Cas in this state of undress. But that was _before,_ when he was just his friend. Now, he’s apparently his husband, and Dean wants nothing more than to walk across the room and claim that for himself. But a niggling doubt stops him cold because that would be the surefire way to scare Cas off, possibly forever.  
  
Instead he waits for Cas to finish and then clears his throat. Cas turns around and smiles at him, a complete 180 change in attitude from earlier in the night. What the hell changed? The guy must still be drunk. Maybe they should wait until tomorrow to have this conversation. It’s just another excuse to procrastinate and Dean feels like such a chickenshit.  
  
Dean smiles back hesitatingly and detours to the bed, sweeping flower petals into his hand. Cas watches him for a second before joining in. They brush the petals into the wastebasket in their little kitchenette each time their hands are full of the velvety smooth pieces.  
  
Dean kinda likes the way the fake candles make the room look and there are too many to turn off so he leaves them, grabs clean clothes from his duffel and goes into the bathroom to take a quick shower and change. He comes back out in his pajamas with a towel around his neck to find Cas laying flat on his back on his side of the bed, eyes closed.  
  
He rubs his hair dry as best as he can, tosses the towel at the couch, misses, and lays down as far from Cas as possible. He turns over and stares at the nearby window, watching the fake flames dance across the shadows until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.  
  
Some time after 2am Dean is jolted awake by his phone vibrating and ringing shrilly in the otherwise quiet room. He slaps his hand around blindly until his hand lands on it. “Sam?” he asks, voice rough from sleep. All he can hear on the other end is loud music and laughter.  
  
“Sam?” he asks again, louder. But again, all he hears is the sounds of some club or wherever the hell Sam is at. “Fucking butt-dialed me,” Dean mutters, hanging up. He lets the phone clatter back to the wood nightstand and turns over.  
  
Cas is still on his side of the bed but he’s rolled over and wide awake, staring at Dean. Dean’s heart lurches, memories of the several dozen times he’s caught Cas watching him sleep assault him, but he lost the ability to tell him to knock it off years ago.    
  
“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Sam is out having the time of his life and must’ve sat on his phone.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Cas whispers but his deep voice still rumbles loudly.  
  
Dean watches him back and then rolls his eyes at himself, flipping over to his back to watch the play of shadows and lights on the ceiling. It was soothing, not quite as bright and hot as fire, but still romantic as fuck.  
  
“Are you not having the time of your life?” Cas asks with sincere curiosity.  
  
So this is it. They’re finally going to talk about the elephant in the room. He lets out a shaky breath. “I- I don’t know, man. This has been a strange trip.”  
  
Cas doesn’t say anything so Dean turns his head to look at him. Cas just watches, waiting for Dean to continue, to explain the strangeness to him.  
  
“Look, when we get home we can get it annulled. Or we can just pretend it never happened and keep the paperwork handy in case either of us ends up hospitalized or in trouble, like husbands in name-only.” There, he said it. He got it out there. The ball is in Cas’ court.  
  
But Cas looks upset, rather than relieved, by his suggestions. He sits up abruptly, letting the blanket pool on his lap, twisting to face Dean. “You do realize that Heaven holds marriage in highest regard, contractually binding? Marriage and certain romantic pairings are so important that we have agents equipped with love bows to ensure certain matches take place. And you want to disrespect it all by ignoring it? It is one thing to go undercover for cases or to pretend when it isn't real. And I understand if you want to annul it because I am a man, Dean, but I will not pretend to not be your husband _when I am_ .”  
  
Dean sits up and faces him, mouth slack in shock. “Is that what you were doing tonight? Being my husband?”  
  
Cas’ brows come together and he tilts his head at what he appears to deem a ridiculous question. “Of course. Weren’t you? You put the ring back on to defend my honor to that flirtatious college boy. And I defended your honor to that rude man on the street.”  
  
“Then why were you ignoring me before we left? And then angry shortly after?” Dean about shouts. He tries to read Cas’ eyes but the only times that Cas breaks eye contact are when he is dishonest or is about to confess something he’s afraid to confess. Cas keeps his eyes trained on Dean.  
  
“You said to keep it quiet and between us. I was worried with how you were dealing with the shocking news but I also knew you weren’t ready to talk, not yet. But,” Cas says with a deep sigh, “but then I was hurt when you took the ring off, after your brother said he was trying to find someone for you to ‘get lucky’ with.”  
  
Realization dawns. “So you were… jealous?”  
  
Cas considers the word in his mind before he nods. “But you put it back on, why?”  
  
Dean snorts and forces a chuckle. “Because some douche was making you uncomfortable? I don’t know.” He studies Cas a moment. “Why’d you about throw me into a wall?”  
  
Cas ducks his head and picks at the blanket in his lap, and it’s so fucking cute that Dean wants to reach out to lift his chin. Instead he clasps his hands tight in his lap. He almost doesn’t hear Cas for as breathy and quickly as he says, “Iwasgoingtokissyou.”  
  
Dean swallows down the bundle of nerves pulsing in his throat. “Oh.” He’d love a redo and almost says as much but Cas is turning away, scooting off the bed.  
  
“It’s okay, Dean. We don’t have to do this,” Cas says. Dean has no idea what he’s talking about, if it’s about kissing or something else, until he continues talking as he walks across the room. “We’ll file the proper paperwork when we get home, like you said.” The bathroom door clicks shut behind Cas.  
  
Wait a minute, Cas was going to kiss him? Did he hear him right? Maybe he meant to say he was going to punch Dean. Sam had interrupted and Cas walked away immediately. Now Cas confesses and just walked away again. A nervous anticipation bubbles up in Dean’s gut. If Cas wanted to kiss him then maybe the fact Dean is a man is a non-issue.    
  
Dean has skipped over every other opportunity to tell Cas how he feels about him but now would be the perfect opportunity. Is it ideal, jumping into marriage? ? Hell no. But they already know each other probably better than most couples who’ve been married for years.  
  
Maybe it’s about time he asks Cas what he wants. Major decisions always gets batted back to Dean and hang over his shoulders, Cas never wanting to push Dean beyond his comfort, probably trying to avoid Dean snapping and then hiding. Which is probably true and he feels another flush of guilt. He knows he isn’t the easiest person to be around or talk with about these things.  
  
The bathroom door clicks back open, sending a beam of light into the room toward the bed before disappearing when Cas flicks the light switch. He walks slowly back to the bed and as he draws near Dean can see his expression is pained, but Cas tries to recover by smiling softly.  
  
“I thought you’d be trying to go back to sleep,” Cas says, climbing aloft and kneeling in the middle of the mattress in front of Dean, where he still sits.  
  
Cas rests his hands on his thighs and Dean reaches out tentatively for Cas’ left hand, thumbing over his ring. “Cas, what do you want to do?” he asks quietly.  
  
“I will do whatever you need to do, Dean," he answers almost robotically and Dean flinches. This isn't a dictatorship.  
  
“Damn it, Cas, this isn’t how this works. You have your own free will, remember? You’re allowed to have feelings and to have independent thought. Now I’m only going to ask this one last fucking time. What do _you_ want?”  
  
Cas looks down at the hand Dean is still holding and swallows. He looks back up and it is one of few times he has seen Cas look afraid. Not life-and-death afraid, because Cas usually faces those situations with stubborn indignation. But it is an emotionally vulnerable kind of afraid. Dean wants to touch his face and tell him it’s okay, that he can say whatever, but Dean is already freaking over the fact that he’s touching Cas’ hand intimately and Cas isn’t pulling away. He continues to run his thumb over the ring and over Cas' knuckles.  
  
Of course, it occurs to Dean, that Cas may just be afraid to hurt Dean and that’s why he refuses to say what he wants. Dean doesn’t think he can bear the rejection but he’ll have to get over it so he prepares himself to hear Cas say that annulment is the only sound option. Instead Cas just mutters one word, so softly, even his baritone can’t project it loud enough for Dean to catch.  
  
“I- I didn’t hear you, what?”  
  
Cas’ eyes widen in frustration. “You,” he says louder. “This. And it’s okay if you don’t, Dean, I still cherish our friendship. I will always be there for you when I can. I won’t leave if you want me to stay, but I will also go if you want me to-”  
  
“Cas, shut up,” Dean says in desperation, his heart thundering wildly. “You’ve always been welcome to stay, always will be. I’d never ask you to go.”  
  
Dean is met by Cas’ studious squint. “I have been welcome to stay?” he asks slowly. “I only thought you wanted me around when I could be of help. It is one reason why losing my grace and power has been difficult. I thought I’d be of no use to you and you’d send me away.”  
  
“God, no, Cas! You- you aren’t just somethin’ to use. You gotta know that. I _thought_ you knew that.”  
  
“It just seems that I was only ever called in for action, other than these last weeks that I’ve lived with you as a mortal.”  
  
“Cas, no.” Dean closes his eyes in frustration at himself, for being so careless and stupid, for not being better with his words. Obviously Cas is someone who needs to be told, not just shown. “I only used cases as an excuse to get you to come. I thought you’d only come if there was some mission or duty for you to fulfill. I didn't think I was enough for you to want to be around.”  
  
The two stare at one another, dumbfounded.  
  
“I’ve never wanted you to leave. Ask Sam, seriously. When you’re gone, especially if I can’t get ahold of you, I lose my fucking mind.”  
  
“So… you want me to stay? You want to do… this?” Cas gestures between the two of them with his free hand.  
  
“I think I do.” At Cas’ furrowed brow he amends his statement with, “I know I do. But don’t people usually, I dunno, date before they get married? Kinda doing this backward, don’tcha think?”  
  
“Dean, we have known each other for years. I know you better than you know yourself. What changes? Intimacy, monogamy?”  
  
“Yeah, but don’t people usually do the whole intimacy thing _before_ marriage, too?”  
  
Cas shrugs and gives him a sly smile. “Plenty of people wait until marriage.”  
  
“Oh, so now we’re good little Christians who waited to hold hands before saying ‘I do’?”  
  
“Technically we have held hands.” Cas looks down and takes Dean’s other hand to make his point.  
  
“Sinners,” Dean says as though scandalized. He takes on a more teasing tone.  “Just a little somethin’ I noticed but you may be a little bit overboard on the overprotective part of it. You don’t have to kill everyone in your mind if they so much as look my way.”  
  
“Huh, perhaps. Then I suppose that I will just have to kill you instead, if you reciprocate, agreed?” Cas says facetiously.  
  
Dean laughs. “Fair enough. Just so you know, though, I am fiercely, fiercely loyal to the people that I love so it shouldn't be a problem.” Dean can feel heat creeping up his chest at the admission he just made.  
  
Cas’ expression softens from his mischievous smirk. “I know.”  
  
“Did you just Han Solo me?” Dean laughs again, mostly because of his nerves, but it dies down quickly when Cas affixes his gaze to Dean's mouth and his eyes don't wander away.  
  
“Dean, I want to kiss you now." Cas' voice sounds breathier and he sounds a little desperate and it goes straight to Dean's groin. His eyes drop down to Cas' lips as well, the space between them shrinking by the second.   
  
Dean takes a deep, steadying breath. He just has to make sure, he has to know, once-and-for-all that this is what Cas truly wants. "Cas you’re my best friend and I don’t want to mess this up. Are you sure about me? About-”  
  
“Dean, it's always been you for me," Cas  says huskily and with unwavering conviction. Dean can feel a trembling in Cas' hands and it kicks up his own pulse several notches.    
  
This is it, the moment Dean has been waiting literal years for and he feels like he’s going to throw up. Dean has kissed a lot of people but none of them made him feel quite like this, quite so nervous, and none made him afraid from the sheer anticipation.  
   
He meets Cas somewhere in the middle, leaning forward until, oh. It isn’t something lame like fireworks blowing up above their heads or magical fairy dust raining down. But it is… everything. It is longing, passion, devotion, and all the years of built up tension igniting at once. It is their breath, their lips, the tease of a tongue, and it is tenderness and wild abandon and then frantic. It is soft, it is firm, it is delicious.  
  
Dean lets himself be guided down slowly, gently against the pillows, Cas planting one knee between his thighs, while he pulls a gasp from Dean by sucking on his lower lip.  
  
“Cas, nmph-” Dean’s lips are taken again until he’s dizzy with breathlessness. Cas moves onto his jaw, their stubbled cheeks heating up with friction. “Cas,” Dean tries again, the name thick in his throat. “How the fuck did you learn how to kiss?”  
  
He can feel Cas smile against his throat but no answer comes. Dean runs his hands up the back of Cas' shirt, enjoying the sensation of him shudder above him. Cas breaks away long enough to pull his shirt up and off, then helps Dean with his and Dean is left reveling in the feel of their heated skin pressed together.  
  
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” Dean mumbles, then his lust-blown, dazed eyes fly open and he pushes at Cas’ pecs, pushing him away until they’re eye-to-eye. Cas looks momentarily confused and then hurt. But Dean grins, almost giddy.  
  
“We’re married,” he says matter-o-factly. He still can't believe it. He thought it'd never happen for him, especially not with the one person he's been in love with for at least a few years.  Cas tilts his head and Dean clasps his hands on his cheeks, gently guiding him back down. “You are _my_  husband.”  
  
Cas quirks a brow at him, placing a hand on either side of Dean's head as he draws closer, before pressing their lips once, twice. “I am. And you are _mine.”_


	2. Cas' POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rating of this fic has changed from Teen+ to EXPLICIT. (The more descriptive scene is actually at the end, with lighter mentions scattered throughout.)
> 
> You can read the first chapter without smut but this second and final installment here is full of playful, sexy (I hope), smutty and fluffy goodness. Dean is so damn happy here. Cas teeters between awkward and dom on purpose, still learning the ropes. ;-P 
> 
> Special thank you to a couple of friends who helped proof this, naruhearts and Emblue_Sparks.

“Cas,” Dean's sleep-husky voice tickles against his ear. Cas opens one eye to squint up at him, drowsy and a little confused. He's resting naked under a thin sheet, in Dean’s arms, his head on a bare chest as Dean absently rubs circles onto Cas’ shoulder with feather-light fingertips.

Last night wasn't a dream. It was real. They are still at the hotel, he’s still wearing a ring, Dean is still here.

Last night, or really it was this morning, was more than anything Cas could have hoped for with Dean. Cas knew of Dean’s longings and affections but he never believed that Dean would allow Cas into his life like this, to allow him to lay claim to him not only in soul, but in body as well.  
  
When they had first found out they had somehow gotten married, the rest of the night was consumed by his many conflicting emotions. He wanted to give Dean time to come around and talk to him but it made Cas feel surly and agitated so he kept quiet. When Dean pulled the ring off in the bar his heart felt like it had been ripped into two but he couldn’t, in good conscience, take his off.  
  
He wasn’t going to say anything unless Dean tried to make off with someone but he remained by Cas’ side, defending him to the flirtatious advances of another man by showing off the ring he had replaced at some point. Dean had said best friends get married, that that is what they do, and it filled Cas with hope.  
  
And it was so hot, as Dean would call it. A- a turn on. He had pushed Dean to a wall and wanted to kiss him, to convince him, to prove himself. But Sam interrupted and Cas was so embarrassed by the public display that he went back to the table to take his drink and calm down.  
  
When that man tried to fight Dean in the street Cas had to use every ounce of restraint he had within him, honed by centuries of practice, to maintain control. That control appeared to be dampened by his human emotions. He ended up going easy on the man, only hurting him enough to keep him from pursuing the fight. He would never let anyone hurt Dean, not ever.  
  
The night seemed to drag on forever and Dean finally suggested they go back to the room. He didn’t tell Cas he wanted to be alone so Cas kept waiting for them to talk but Dean went to sleep. When he finally did acknowledge the marriage it was only to call it off or pretend. Cas kept his tone as emotionless as he could, running to the only place he could hide for a moment to compose himself, the bathroom.  
  
He had covered his face with his hands, trying to breathe and still his thundering heart. Of course it was all a mistake, getting married. They were obviously drunk and said things they would never say otherwise. Did things they’d never do. Cas resigned himself to the idea of annulment and then probably would leave the bunker to avoid the awkwardness he knew would ensue. It wouldn’t be the first time he had left. Deflated and shattered, he came back out of the bathroom to find Dean frozen in the same spot, reaching for him, promising him, wanting to be with him.  
  
Cas was overcome and had to feel him, to make it official and real. He touched Dean back, kissed him, lay him down underneath him. Dean was so trusting and so willing.  
  
They took things as slow as they could stand but after so many years of waiting the tension was so taut that it did not take long for either to climax. He had felt a pride in the sounds he could elicit from Dean’s throat, the sound of his name drawn out deeply like a prayer. He straddled one of Dean’s thighs, taking him into hand, ‘making out’ as it is called until they spilled over together.  
  
After a nap, it could have been one hour or ten but it felt like the blink of an eye, Dean rolled over and hovered over Cas. He kissed into his mouth, sucking on his bottom lip, causing Cas’ body to respond to the stimuli. Dean paused to take a breath, pressing their cheeks together as he whispered close to his ear, “I wanna taste you.”  
  
“Oh-okay.” Cas’ heart had tripped.  
  
Dean situated himself between Cas’ legs as he kissed and licked his way further and further down Cas’ body until Cas was breathing his name and pleading with him. Cas watched in amazement as Dean blew air on his cock and winked up at him, sliding his tongue around the head, licking down and up the underside before taking him into his mouth without breaking eye contact.  
  
Cas had never experienced any sensation like it. It was overpowering and drew out deep guttural sounds that he didn’t know were in him. And Dean, only Dean, got to hear it. One hand fumbled for a sheet to grasp, his other hand grabbing Dean’s hair, moving as Dean moved. He tried to resist the urge to move his hips, allowing Dean to tease and move as he pleased. Dean moaned along with him, the vibrations it caused driving Cas wild.  
  
Dean sucked him up, down and around as he came, swallowing at the back of his throat so a drop didn’t spill. Cas had not realized Dean was pumping himself until he leaned up, coming across Cas’ stomach a beat later.  
  
“I would’ve been pleased to help you with that,” he said about twenty minutes later once they had toweled off and returned to the covers, most of the fake candles still blinked as the room lightened in the break of dawn. He felt bad that Dean had ‘done all the work’ but Dean waved him off and explained that it isn’t always about receiving, that giving is just as pleasurable.  
  
“If you’re certain…”  
  
“Hey, you weren’t complaining when I did that thing with my tongue. In fact, what I think I heard was, ‘Ah, Dean, please… Dean…’” Dean said in a mockingly deep voice.  
  
“Hmph,” Cas huffed, narrowing his eyes. “And that is something I will gladly reciprocate just so you can experience how torturous it was. I do need to test out your theory on giving versus receiving after all.” Just the thought of taking Dean in reawakened his libido and he sat up to crawl over Dean, positioning himself between his legs as Dean had done to him. He rested hot palms against Dean’s thighs.  
  
“For science, right?” Dean asked lightly, his pulse picking up judging by his shallower breathing. Cas slid his hands up Dean’s bare skin, squeezed his hips, before continuing up his stomach and his chest. Dean closed his eyes, letting Cas touch and feel and explore.  
  
“For science,” Cas agreed, voice husky. In fact, his knowledge of human anatomy was about to come in very handy. He intended to make Dean squirm and beg, especially after mocking his own pleas, a sweet torturous revenge.  
  
“I look forward to your research results especially,” Dean drawled, running his hands through Cas’ hair as Cas lowered his lips to Dean’s stomach before traveling lower and lower, his eyes on Dean’s face the whole time as Dean writhed and bucked under him.  
  
The sun is higher now and spilling in through the still-open curtains, illuminating the entire room. Cas can see Dean’s freckles in the light and he traces a spattering of the ones on Dean’s pec with a finger. Dean is dozing off again but he cracks an eye open to look down at Cas and smiles at the sensation. Cas’ lip curls up slyly and he leans close to trace some freckles with the tip of his tongue instead. Dean quirks his eyebrows in amusement and his closed-mouth smile deepens.  
  
“Hmm, salty,” Cas hums, rolling over, keeping Dean’s arm tucked under his neck. Dean follows, pressing his chest into Cas’ back, pulling Cas tightly to him with his free arm and scissoring their legs together. “You’re warm, Dean.”  
  
“You’re hot,” Dean breathed behind his ear, sending a flare of goosebumps to erupt across his flesh.  
  
“I’m not that hot,” Cas says, looking down at himself. He had gotten a bit flushed during their last escapade but he only feels the coolness of waking from sleep now.  
  
“I didn’t mean that kinda hot,” Dean mumbles into a kiss at the back of Cas’ neck.  
  
Cas realizes he means it as a compliment to his physical appearance and feels a heat travel from his gut to his chest, preening under Dean’s accolades. Dean has never told Cas these kinds of things, and though he felt them as an angel, it was nice to hear them aloud, even in slang.  
  
Unsure what what to say he turns his thoughts to the day. “What do you want to do today?”  
  
“You mean other than you?” Dean asks, rolling his hips into Cas, teasing him. “Well, I still plan on getting that massage. But first, I’ll give you one.”  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“Yeah, you’ll like it. Then you can do me.”  
  
“I think I like you.”  
  
“Pssh, you _love_ me. Roll over,” Dean whispers, moving away from Cas. “Onto your stomach.”  
  
Cas obeys, laying his left cheek against the bed. He feels the weight of Dean settle above him as he straddles his ass. Dean’s hands are hot and wide against his back when he presses them just at Cas’ shoulder blades, where phantom wings once presided, unseen on this realm but very real. The pressure is just over the side of pleasant and teetering on uncomfortable.  
  
“Sorry,” Dean mumbles when Cas flinches. “Does that hurt?”  
  
“Maybe not so hard there. It- it’s a sensitive area.”  
  
Dean seems to understand instantly. “Because of being an angel?”  
  
Cas nods, his cheek rubbing against the sheet as he tips his chin up and down. He closes his eyes.  
  
Dean lightens his touch, dancing his fingers along Cas’ skin. “Do ya miss it?”  
  
Cas sighs. He doesn’t like to dwell long on the subject. There is more that he’d rather forget than remember. “I miss my wings, yes. But I don’t regret giving up my grace, Dean.” He tries to say it with as much conviction as he can but Dean has moved his hands down to the middle of his back and it feels so good that his voice wobbles.  
  
Dean shifts above him, moving lower, using the heels of his hands to rub out tension. He presses flat palms firmly on either side of Cas’ spine traveling up until he grasps Cas’ shoulders and squeezes, using his thumbs in circular motions to work out knots.  
  
“Dude, have you never had a massage? You’re so fucking tense. Try to relax.”  
  
“Mmm-kay,” Cas replies, allowing Dean’s ministrations to help lull him into a meditative state, focusing on softening his muscles except for the one that refuses to obey. “I trust you, Dean. You know that, right?”  
  
He can feel Dean tense above him, his hands pausing. He opens his eyes and sees Dean leaning down toward his face in his peripheral vision, Dean’s erection pinned to Cas’ lower back. A kiss lands on his cheek. “I hope so,” Dean says softly before sitting back up.  
  
After several minutes of working on his back, Dean moves off of Cas in order to kneel next to him, the bed rocking with his change of position. He hesitates and changes his mind about whatever he was about to do, sliding off the bed to go to his duffel. Cas leans up on his arms to watch him.  
  
“Got lotion in here somewhere,” Dean is muttering.  
  
“Do I want to know what you do with that lotion?” Cas asks, knowing perfectly well what Dean does with it.  
  
Dean grins up at him wickedly. “It’s for softening skin, duh.”  
  
“Huh, I suppose that is one way to put it,” Cas says in amusement.  
  
Dean finds the bottle in a zippered pocket and walks back over, completely nude and aroused. Cas raises an eyebrow at him. Dean is anything but bashful when it comes to sensuality and Cas is not a fledgling. He has watched the world and humanity evolve, he knows the mechanics of the human body and therefore the mechanics of sex.  
  
Cas simply finds that it his lack of personal experience in the ‘doing’ is where his nervousness has lain, not the ‘seeing’, though he is trying to keep up and learn quickly as he goes. He thinks Dean is beautiful and he watches him without shame as Dean returns to the bed, his knees pressing into one of Cas’ sides.  
  
“This is gonna be cold,” Dean warns, though he tries to heat it up as best he can in his hands, rubbing them together vigorously. The initial shock gives way to pleasure, the addition of the lotion tantalizing Cas’ senses.  
  
It is a scent he recognizes Dean wearing from time-to-time when traveling between motels on hunts, like smoked oak and musk. It is smooth and slick, heating up quickly with the friction of Dean’s hands on his skin. He finds himself humming and moaning as Dean works over his arms, neck, back, and legs.  
  
When Dean is done and Cas feels like his entire body is thick and heavy as though moving through honey, he rolls over to find one very, very aroused husband with hooded eyes and parted lips. “You’re killing me, Smalls. The noises you’re making, your body…”  
  
Cas sits up and kneels in front of Dean where he is still kneeling, knees-to-knees. Dean’s still moist hands find him, coming around Cas’ own erection, startling him at first as Dean’s hands had cooled from the lack of Cas’ body heat. “Uh, don’t you want me to, uh…” Cas cannot concentrate with what Dean is doing with his hands. He’s trying to ask if Dean wants him to return the massage but he can only close his eyes and tip his head back.  
  
“No,” Dean pants, his voice low and strained. “Later.”  
  
Cas tilts his head back down and spies the lotion bottle near Dean’s leg. He leans forward, kissing Dean on his way to reach for the bottle. He slicks up his hands and grabs Dean as well, pleased with the soft gasp and “fuck” Dean mumbles. Dean shifts off of his shins, rising up a little and Cas follows, inching closer to nip at and kiss Dean’s jaw.  
  
He looks down at their hands, pumping in unison but separate, but Cas wants to feel more. Cas encourages Dean to let go of him so Dean rests his hands on Cas’ shoulders instead while Cas takes them both, watching Dean’s face as he shudders, and they come together.  
  
Cas pulls Dean down to him against his chest, his skin damp from lotion and sweat, kissing Dean’s temple and carding his fingers through hair. He loves the weight and heat of Dean being so close.

“We are so gross,” Dean laughs, indicating the mess drying between them. The scent of them mingles, imprinting on their bodies, sticky and heady, the room filled with the scent of sex and their musk and the smoked oak.  
  
“I saw a big tub in that bathroom,” Cas suggests.  
  
“Nah, shower. I got an idea for the tub later. Race you to the shower?” Dean is already up and halfway there before Cas’ feet touch the floor, cupping his post-sex-sensitive junk in a hand to keep it from jostling around in his haste.  
  
“I win,” Dean yells, his voice resounds loudly in the bathroom as Cas crosses the threshold and shuts the door.  
  
Cas had grabbed Dean’s toiletry bag on his way into the room and drops it onto the counter. He leans against the door, crossing his arms, jerking his chin toward the bag. He smugly says, “You might need this,” and just for good measure adds, “Cheater.”  
  
“You’re just a sore loser. Sore losers resort to name-calling and blame.” Dean shrugs, reaching into the large walk-in shower to turn the faucet on to heat the water up. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”  
  
“Do you think you’re funny?”  
  
“No, I don’t. I think I’m hilarious.”  
  
Cas smiles softly at him. “Yeah, you’re okay.” He considers Dean a moment. “You are also incredibly handsome, courageous, passionate...”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, when did this turn into a chick-flick?”  
  
Cas pretends to think. “I would say about 2 a.m.?”  
  
“Smartass.”  
  
“The smartest ass, actually.”  
  
“The sexiest ass,” Dean corrects, that mischievous smile returning, and he tests the water with a wrist. Cas huffs and rolls his eyes but can’t stop smiling.  
  
“Just get in the shower, you filthy beast,” Cas orders.  
  
Dean steps in and beckons Cas to follow. “I like it when you talk dirty, Cas.”  
  
Cas grabs the body wash and shampoo from Dean’s toiletries and pushes away from the sink to step into the shower, setting the bottles on the ledge. “I think that you like it better when I make you dirty,” Cas says darkly, picking up on the sexual banter.  
  
Dean snickers, holding onto Cas’ arms. “Oh my God, Cas.” Dean shakes his head and looks up, seeming to talk up to the ceiling. “It’s always the quiet ones.”  
  
“What is?” Cas glances up toward the ceiling and back to Dean.  
  
“That are freaks in the sack. Ya know? Gutter-brained, dirty talk, willing to try some, um, less conventional positions and… things.” Now it is Dean who looks uncertain, testing to see just how far Cas may be willing to go. It oddly bolsters Cas’ confidence. He knows Dean enjoys being in control of most situations but bends the rules when it comes to sex, preferring his partner to take the lead many times.  
  
The sprays of water from both shower-heads keep them enveloped in steamy warmth but Cas can feel his skin tingling. He reaches up a hand, threading his fingers through damp hair and pulls Dean in for a rougher kiss than any he has given him yet, biting his lip gently. Dean softens under him, moaning deeply in his throat, allowing Cas to push him up against the wall with a little force.

Cas travels lower, sucking and licking at Dean’s collarbone, when Dean says, “Dude, seriously, this is hot as fuck. But I don’t think I can go another round yet. I’m not- I’m not used to doing this five times in a row.”  
  
Cas straightens up to look into Dean’s amber-green gaze. “I will have mercy on you… this time,” he says sternly, taking pleasure in the way Dean’s pupils dilate and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. The truth is, his body isn’t used to marathon sex either, so he takes the out.  
  
“To be continued, okay?”  
  
“I guarantee it,” Cas says, and Dean noticeably shivers and ducks his head, biting his lip to suppress a grin. Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s waist.

There's only breathing, the slap of water on skin and tile, the snap of the shampoo bottle cap, the suck of the bottle being squeezed and released, a fresh scent rising on steam.  
  
Dean lathers up shampoo in his hands and reaches up through Cas’ embrace to massage it into Cas’ scalp, rubbing slow circles with blunt fingernails. Cas tries to squint at Dean through the rivulets of water streaming down his face but finally closes his eyes. After thoroughly covering Cas’ hair in the shampoo Dean flattens his hands against Cas’ head and pushes them together, sandwiching Cas’ hair.  
  
“Are you giving me a soapy mohawk, Dean?” his voice rumbles and reverberates in the confined space.  
  
Dean chuckles. “Actually, wait right here and don’t you dare move a muscle or put your head in the water.” Cas still has his eyes screwed shut, water and shampoo bubbles tracking his face. Dean comes back into the bathroom a minute later, his wet, bare feet slapping against the bathroom tiles.  
  
“Shit, need to call Sam, but first…” Cas hears the shutter sound of the camera on Dean’s phone.  
  
“Did you just... take my picture?” Cas’ heart flutters oddly.  
  
“Calm down, it was only a head shot. You know how many times my brother gets my phone and messes with shit? I wouldn’t dream of doing you the dishonor. Though, it would be funny…”  
  
“Don’t you dare, Dean.”  
  
“Fine, fine.” He hears the click of Dean setting his phone down next to the sink and then Dean is beside him again, running fingertips against Cas’ temples, up into his hair, tipping his head back gently to rinse it out. "I just wanted to remember this moment," Dean says quietly and Cas presses a kiss to his cheek.  
  
Cas holds Dean, his hands splayed over the very ribs that are carved with his Enochian protection marks. When he rubs his thumbs down them, thinking about the sigils, Dean shivers and twists and jerks his body, halting the song that he started humming with a strangled sound. “Does that tickle you, Dean?”  
  
“No! No, of course not,” Dean replies, trying to keep himself still and not give away how sensitive that area is for him. Cas smirks and files the detail away for later, stilling his hands.  
  
Dean goes back to humming and then is singing under his breath as Cas lathers Dean’s hair up and rinses it out, his voice slowly rising until he stops and tries to convince Cas to sing along.  
  
“Everyone knows Bohemian Rhapsody, Cas, c’mon.” Dean turns and lets Cas soap up his back with large suds.  
  
“I didn’t say I didn’t know it. I just don’t… sing. Turn around.” Cas soaps up Dean’s chest, slowly. He loves the firmness of Dean’s chest, loves to touch it and press against it, to be held there so he can hear Dean’s heart beating.  
  
“You can do the real deep parts,” Dean says, jerking his body again when Cas’ hands roam over his ticklish ribs.  
  
Cas smiles softly. “And you’ll take the high notes?” He presses close to Dean to reach around and slowly rub his palms over Dean’s ass cheeks, temporarily distracting Dean from his mission.  
  
Cas lowers to a knee and soaps up one leg and then another, gazing up at Dean as he rises. Dean clears his throat, his voice a little rough as he continues their playful back-and-forth. “Yeah, I think you’d hurt yourself if you tried. Might strain somethin’.” Cas guides Dean under the water, washing away the sweat, semen and soap.  
  
“You have a deep voice, too, Dean,” Cas says in feigned annoyance.  
  
Dean hands Cas the bottle of body wash and he takes the shampoo to use as microphones, both slick and dripping with water. “Come on, you can do it. I believe in you!” Dean starts off, holding the cap of the bottle near his mouth while grasping Cas’ bicep with his free hand, imploring him with his eyes to join in. He sings purposefully off-key, keeping the mood light.  
  
When it gets to the deep part, Cas rolls his eyes but deepens his voice even further than is normal, “Galileo,” and Dean loses it. He drops the shampoo so he can hold both of Cas’ biceps, tilting his head back to laugh in abandon, laughing with his whole body. The sound and emotion are contagious, Cas catching it until they’re both laughing and clasping one another.  
  
Cas can’t recall a single time he has laughed so much, ever. The pizza dinner with Charlie comes close and that night was fraught with incredible tension over the Mark. And then maybe the night at the brothel a far third but that was when he was an angel and wouldn’t know funny even if it smacked him in the face. The only reason he found that night amusing was because of the human by his side, throwing a casual and friendly arm over his shoulder in laughter in what didn’t seem to be a comedic situation at the time.  
  
Dean notices the uncharacteristic joy because he sobers, reaches up a hand to caress Cas’ cheek and says, “You should laugh and smile more. It’s… nice.”  
  
“Thank you, Dean. I seem to only find reason to when in your presence.” A pink hue colors Dean’s cheeks in silent reply, his freckles darkening slightly. Cas leans in to catch Dean’s lips, kissing him softly, a thank you for making his heart feel light, for giving him a wonderful morning.  
  
The water is cooling and they’re starting to shiver so they step out to dry and get dressed. They both pull on denim jeans with Dean choosing a navy t-shirt and Cas a black one. Cas gets coffee started in the little kitchenette while Dean sits on the couch to return the three phone calls and half-a-dozen texts that Sam has left.  
  
He can only hear Dean’s side of the conversation. “Dude, my phone was on silent.” Pause. “Well, we’re both fine. No need to storm the castle.” Pause. “Yeah, starving.” Dean closes his eyes and lays his head against the back of the couch, probably thinking of a double cheeseburger with bacon. “Okay, yeah, let’s meet there. See ya.”  
  
Cas pours the coffee into the white, hotel-issue mugs and brings one over to Dean as he hangs up. Dean reaches up to take it with a strained smile, tapping his phone against his thigh nervously, staring at some point across the room.  
  
“Do you want to tell your brother today?” Cas asks, still standing, blowing steam away.  
  
Dean turns his amber-green eyes on him. “How do you do that? You always seem to know what I’m thinkin’.”  
  
After all of this time Dean still does not seem to comprehend and Cas isn’t sure he can explain it, not fully. Cas had seen his raw, tormented soul in hell and has been watching over him ever since. Dean wasn’t particularly fond of the watching part so Cas doesn’t mention it now, settling instead on four simple words. “I know you, Dean.”  
  
It seems to be enough of an answer for now because Dean sighs and doesn’t ask him to explain any further. “Of course I want to tell my brother. But I don’t.” He takes a tentative sip. “But I should.”  
  
“ _Y_ _ou_ don't have to, but _we_ can. Don’t underestimate him, Dean. Sam is a very accepting person.” Cas knows that he could feel hurt that Dean might want to keep their relationship private but Cas also understands it isn’t personal. Dean has kept his sexuality hidden, very poorly if Cas is honest, from Sam.

And Sam, well, he rarely makes a comment except to hint toward it but he doesn’t push Dean to a full confession. Dean’s lack of denial is what puts the ‘nails in his coffin’ and still his brother just presses his lips tight and stares with knowing eyes. From a practical standpoint Dean won’t be able to hide it from Sam forever anyway, not with the way all of three of them live.  
  
Dean lets out his breath slowly and takes a few gulps of coffee. “Yeah, I know. Well, let’s get out of here. My husband kept me up all morning and worked up my fucking appetite.”  
  
Cas watches Dean fondly as he pulls out his purplish-pink and deep blue flannel from the duffel bag at his feet, putting it on over his navy t-shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. Cas steps closer when Dean stands and fingers the hem of it. “I remember this shirt. You haven’t worn it in a long time.”  
  
Dean pats his cheek affectionately. “Reminds me of you, too. Now let’s go before my stomach eats itself.”  
  
They ride to the restaurant with Lynyrd Skynyrd playing so low that the rumble of the Impala almost drowns it out. Dean does not hesitate to rest a hand on Cas’ thigh when he gets out of the parking lot and onto the road. Cas marvels at how quickly they’ve moved into physical intimacy, literally overnight. He lays his left hand over Dean’s, brushing his fingers over bony knuckles, the glare of the sun on the gold band that symbolizes their union.  
  
Being secluded in the hotel room was one thing, but to come out of that little bubble and realize that this is real, this isn’t a weekend tryst, that he can move into Dean’s bed at home and kiss him when he wants, that they have each other and Cas belongs... it’s overwhelming.

Emotions can become too much until they fill you up and spill over as tears. Cas can feel the fullness in his own chest and looks over to find Dean glancing between him and the road.  
  
“You okay?” Dean asks him with genuine concern, in the same tone he’s asked that question many times when Cas has been upset, depressed, injured. It’s always been there and now it all makes sense. Dean has loved him perhaps as long as he's loved Dean, their feelings running deeper than mere affection.  
  
Cas squeezes his fingers, his eyes prickling from unshed tears. “Yes, I am perfect.”  
  
Dean chuckles and squeezes his thigh in response. “Yeah, yeah ya are.”  
  
“Who is the one making chick flick moments now, huh?” Cas chuckles softly.  
  
Dean blushes and keeps his eyes ahead, slowing to take a turn. “Shut it.” But he smiles a little.  
  
When they pull into the restaurant parking lot they see Sam and Eileen waiting by the front door in sunglasses, looking hungover and exhausted. Sam hears the Impala and puts a hand up in greeting as Dean parks. Eileen turns around to follow Sam’s diverted gaze and smiles when she catches sight of them.  
  
Cas turns to Dean on the front seat, tightening his grip on Dean’s hand. “I will follow your lead,” he says before Dean can say anything, resisting the urge to kiss him. Dean looks at him for a few seconds, the relief evident in his expression. They get out and meet around the front of the car to walk in together, leaving space between them.  
  
“You look terrible,” Sam says to Dean as a hostess guides them through the few seated diners enjoying a late lunch.  
  
“Long night?” Dean asks, ignoring Sam’s statement, as they are sat at a square table. Cas takes the seat to Dean’s right, Eileen on Dean’s left, leaving the brothers sitting across from one another.  
  
“Long but amazing. So get this, Eileen is into craft beers and we found this Irish Pub which offers a lot of local drinks but imports as well. She really wanted some good ol’ Irish ale. And we…”

Cas tunes the story out and looks over at Dean, who already knows what he wants to order, resting his elbows on the table to listen to his brother attentively but his leg starts bouncing up and down nervously, knocking their knees together under the table.

Cas frowns at his menu, wanting to reach out to lay a hand of comfort against Dean’s leg. Following Dean’s lead is proving harder than he thought it would be, especially after spending hours intimately exploring one another’s bodies with the freedom to look and to touch...

The waitress returns with waters, interrupting Sam’s story, and everyone places their predictable orders. Cas is certain that he could have spared them all the wait by ordering for everyone when they first walked in.

“... so then some of the acrobats from the performance hall came in for drinks and the place turned into fucking Cirque du Soleil. People flipping off of tables, chugging beer through a tube while doing handstands or crazy contortions, swinging from the ceiling-”

“You sure you didn't do drugs? Someone slip you somethin’? No one goes into a pub and swings from the ceiling,” Dean says.

“No, it's true!” Eileen interjects. “And some of them were quite sexy,” she adds with a wink. Sam gives her one of his unamused, pinched expressions but she just grins at him and chews on the milk-white straw floating in her glass of water.

“I'm telling you, man, you should've stuck around last night. What did you do again?” Sam rests his elbows on the table to mirror his brother, eyes suddenly wide and innocent.

Cas tries to keep his face emotionless but he feels heat rising to his cheeks, which is ridiculous but he can't make it stop. He looks at Dean and sees he is having much the same reaction but his leg has stopped bouncing around in favor of being pressed hard into Cas’ knee.  

“We, uh, went to bed. I wasn't feeling well,” Dean says. He starts tearing up a paper napkin that he pulled from the dispenser.

“We?”  
  
“Cas didn’t want to be out by himself, duh,” Dean offers, trying to sound assertive but it isn’t believable.  
  
“Uh-huh,” Sam says, glancing at Eileen quickly. “So you left early to both go to sleep. In your honeymoon suite. And I see you're still wearing those rings.”  
  
The conversation is between the brothers now, Cas and Eileen mere observers on the sidelines. Cas looks to her and she's fighting a smile, her red-rimmed eyes shiny.

Something isn't right. He can tell by Sam’s tone and Eileen’s body language. Sam is trying to draw something out of Dean, something that Eileen appears to be amused by. And the realization hits him while Dean struggles for a response.

“You know,” Cas says softly. Sam's eyes flick to him and he breaks out in a grin. Eileen releases a light laugh.

It takes Dean a moment to catch up to what exactly Sam knows but when he does he sputters. “What the fuck? You know?”

Sam shrugs. “What's the point in being a pain in the ass little brother if I'm not actually a pain in the ass?”

“Wh- why didn't you say something?”

“Hey, at first I didn't know that you didn’t remember us being there. Not until you mentioned the hotel like we'd never been there. So I asked about the rings to see if you’d, I don’t know, talk to me.” Sam is still smiling but there’s an undercurrent of hurt beneath the surface.

“Wait, just hold on. Explain,” Dean orders stiffly, stress in his voice.

Sam’s expression softens. “Do you really think, drunk or not, that you'd get married and not invite me?”

Dean is clutching the edge of the table now, his back ramrod straight. “You were there,” he says dumbly, not posing his question as a question.

“Yeah I just said that, twice. We had split but then you called and begged me to come down to the license bureau. We had to convince them that you two were in your right minds before they'd even let you get the license,” Sam explains.

“We confirmed how much you love each other, and told them you weren’t just two drunk strangers,” Eileen says, batting her eyes at them.

“What?” Dean doesn't know who to look at so he takes turns between Sam and Eileen. Cas wishes Dean would look at him. He seems to be purposefully avoiding looking his way, but his knee remains pressed close.

“We vouched for you, you’re welcome. We're also the ones who drove you to the chapel and then to your fancy schmancy hotel to tuck your passed-out asses in bed,” Sam adds.

“Passed out,” Dean says. Cas looks at Dean in concern, his use of monosyllabic responses are disconcerting, a sign of distress.

“I am pretty sure the hotel thought we were all about to have an orgy in your room so we tried to dump you quick. We took you to your room. You managed to get your pants halfway down, Dean, but I had to get them off the rest of the way when you slumped to the bed and fainted. I put your phone on the nightstand and made sure your receipt was with the hotel key, like the best brother that I am.”

“You sneaky son-of-a-bitch.” Dean slaps a hand on the table near Cas’ wrist. “Wait, you undressed Cas?”

“Nah, he passed out before you. You took his pants off,” Sam laughs.

“While you watched? What kind of-”

“God, no! He passed out first and you were fawning over him and didn't want him sleeping in jeans so you started taking them off for him and tucked him in-”  
  
“It was adorable,” Eileen interrupts.  
  
“-then you wanted yours off, too,” Sam finishes.  
  
“Well, sleeping in jeans sucks. I’ve done it enough to know,” Dean sniffs indignantly.   
  
Eileen nudges Sam. “Your phone.”

“Oh yeah, Eileen used my phone to get videos, too. Thought you might like a reminder just in case you were drunk enough to forget most of it. Wanna see?” Sam asks gleefully and reaches into his pocket.

“No,” Dean practically hisses and looks around like Sam is about to take a bomb out of his pocket instead of his phone. “Not here. Just- just text them to me.”

“Alright, so you two good?” Sam asks, distractedly flipping through his albums to select which videos and pictures to send to Dean, chuckling to himself.

“Wait, what about that wingman shit?” Dean asks.

“Like I said, I reserve the right to be a pain in your ass. Well, I guess that that right now extends to Cas, doesn’t it?” Sam looks up from his phone and grins at each of them in turn.

“Do- do you know how many kinds of wrong that sounds?” Dean asks.  
  
“So you don’t deny bottoming. Not sure I wanted to know that,” Sam mumbles, tapping on his screen with a disgusted frown.  
  
“Sam, you pulled some not-cool shit last night. You should’ve said something because we were flipping out, if ya hadn’t noticed.”

Sam puts his phone away just as Cas’ and Dean’s phones each ding with incoming messages. “You shoulda seen your face when...”

Eileen places a hand on Sam’s arm to stop him, eyes on Dean. She can read people well and right now Dean was about to lose his temper and maybe storm out. “Sorry, Dean,” she says.

Dean clenches and unclenches his jaw, looking between Eileen and Sam before his eyes finally, finally, come to rest on Cas. Dean’s eyes noticeably soften and Cas smiles. It calms Dean down for what he’s about to say.  
  
“You do realize that we had no idea,” Dean gestures between him and Cas, returning to look at Sam. “None. We remember none of it. Zip, zilch, nada. We didn’t know we got married until we invited you up for dinner last night and found the receipt.”  
  
“Wait, what? Shit, hold on, Dean. I may be a jerk to you to a degree but I’m not a fucking asshole. I thought you knew you got married but just forgot we were there. I thought you were just hiding it _from us_ . I was waiting for you to confess, throwing out the wingman shit to provoke you.”  
  
Dean takes several breaths and angles his body toward Cas more, resting a hand on the arm Cas has on the table. "Do you happen to know why we came up with this brilliant idea?"  
  
"Pretty sure it had to do with you guys winning a honeymoon suite. Got it in your heads to make it official. You wanted us there to help get the license and of course serve as witnesses. Not the way I'd do it, but..." Sam turns beet red.  
  
"Yeah, sure, you'd  _never_ get married in Vegas, Sam."  
  
"Shut up!" Sam side-eyes Eileen but she just grins.   
  
“Okay, okay. Yeah, we got hitched,” Dean confesses.   
  
Sam quirks an eyebrow, his tone patronizing. “Yes, I know.”  
  
“And you’re… cool?”  
  
“Yes, Dean, I’m cool. I have fully functioning eyes you know. I’ve known you two were head-over-heels for years but if I had known getting you two wasted would lead to you confessing your undying love for one another --seriously, watch the videos-- then I’d have gotten you both plastered sooner. Do you know how insufferable you both are when you’re in the same room? I wanted to stab my own eyes out.”  
  
“Well, that’s a little extreme,” Cas says, frowning. “I don’t believe we’ve done anything to want you to cause yourself harm to that degree.”  
  
“Oh believe me, Cas, you have.”  
  
“Yeah, he’s right,” Eileen says. “And I haven’t been around nearly as much as Sam.”  
  
“Okay, okay you made your point. We disgust you with our flagrant attraction for one another. Duly noted,” Dean says dryly, rubbing a thumb against Cas' wrist.  
  
“No one said it was flagrant! It’s just… intense and can make some people uncomfortable.” Sam takes a couple of big gulps of water.  
  
Cas knew the moment Sam said that that he had said the wrong thing. Dean takes his hand away to tee-pee his hands together, planting his elbows on the table and leaning forward to take up space and presence.  
  
“Oh, he’s uncomfortable, Cas, ya hear that? I bet I could make it about a million times worse.”  
  
“Dean,” Cas warns.  
  
“I’m gonna show him,” Dean says, a statement with a lilt of question at the end, eyes boring into Sam.  
  
“No.” Cas knows Dean is bluffing and plays along, adding a sense of foreboding with his own refusals.  
  
“Show me what?” Sam asks nervously. He takes another mouthful of water, eyeing his brother warily.  
  
“Oh, just the picture I took of Cas in the shower this morning.”  
  
Sam doesn't mean to do it. He wanted to avoid Eileen so he turned to his left, spraying his water all over Cas. Silverware clatters at the table behind them as people turn to watch them all in shock. Cas rubs a hand over his face, Sam is coughing to clear his throat and Eileen’s jaw is slack. Dean is the first to start ripping napkins out of the dispenser, Sam joining in a second later.  
  
“I believe Dean just mentioned I already had a shower, Sam,” Cas says, Dean blotting at his soaked face and snickering at his statement.  
  
“Sorry, Cas, here’s more napkins. Dude, Dean, why the fuck- ” Sam mutters. He shakes himself a little. “No, I don’t wanna know. I really and truly do not want to know.”  
  
Dean finishes helping Cas and then reaches into his jacket for the phone. “Couldn’t help it. He looked sexy. Look for yourself, really.” Dean holds his phone out but no one takes it.  
  
“Okay, I surrender! I’m waving a white flag. I will not make any snarky comments about your profound love for each other. Your point has been made so keep your pornographic pictures of each other to yourselves.”  
  
“Ya sure? Going once, going twice…”  
  
“Dean,” Cas says in warning.  
  
“Aw, come on, I told you it was just your face. I knew Sam wouldn’t look.” Dean scoots his chair over to Cas’ side of the table even though there's hardly room and drapes an arm over Cas’ shoulders. He opens the photo album on his phone and shows Cas the picture. “See? You’re fucking adorable.”  
  
Cas rolls his eyes but looks and sure enough, it’s just from his collarbone and up. The soaped up mohawk was drooping to one side slightly, a wrinkle between his brow as he waited in naked confusion for Dean to rejoin him. His scrunched face caused deep wrinkles to appear at the corner of his closed eyes and tugged his lips up into a tight smile.  
  
Knowing it wasn’t a nude picture after all Eileen reaches out for the phone. “Aw, he _is_ adorable,” she says, trying to pass it over for Sam to look but he shakes his head. “Come on, look at your brother-in-law in the shower.”  
  
“Ugh, all of you! I’m still fighting a migraine here. I don’t need this trauma.” They all laugh and Sam is saved from further teasing when their food is brought out and set before them.  
  
“So, you’re doing this. No regrets? No take-backs?” Sam asks, taking a stab at his Cobb salad.  
  
“Already did it,” Dean says nonchalantly to everyone’s relief, until he continues. “Four times this morning.” Sam chucks a piece of ham at his head.

Dean takes a bite of his burger that is so big Cas isn’t sure how he can chew it to swallow. Cas suddenly understood a few euphemisms with that fleeting thought. He smirks at Dean who wiggles his eyebrows in response, cheeks puffed out and lips pursed.    
  
“Four, Sam,” Dean says around the mouthful, barely understood. He holds up for fingers for emphasis.  
  
“Okay, we are setting some ground rules right the fuck now.” Sam shakes a finger at his brother and then Cas. “First, I don’t need to know that. Second, I _really_ don’t need to know that.”  
  
Dean grins and swallows his food down. “Hey, I was worried about telling you but now I think this is actually the best thing I’ve ever done.”  
  
“You think?” Cas asks.  
  
“Nah, I know.” Dean leans over and kisses Cas, a quick peck to the lips, transferring a smudge of ketchup that he notices when he leans back. He wipes it off of Cas with his thumb and lets his gaze linger.  
  
“So they’re like this even when they’re not drunk,” Eileen states dryly.    
  
“And here I thought this would help resolve the sexual tension, not make it worse,” Sam moans.  
  
After lunch they decide to go back to The Venus and swim, splitting up briefly so that Sam and Eileen go to their hotel to get their swimwear, giving everyone ample time to digest a bit, too.  
  
The men find their suite has been visited by housekeeping. The bed is replaced with fresh linens, the battery-powered candles, most of which were dead by the time they were in the shower, have been removed. The forgotten champagne is still there, the bucket drained of melted ice, the bottle being compliments of the hotel. Cas trails a finger along the label, intending to remember it for later when they were alone again.  
  
Dean wanders out of the bathroom in swim trunks and a t-shirt, distracted by the phone in his hand as he plops down on the couch. Cas joins him. “Okay, do we even wanna watch these videos?” Dean licks his lips nervously, looking to Cas for an answer.  
  
“Well it’s our wedding and we did not think we’d ever remember or see it, so yes.”  
  
Dean presses his lips together and turns his attention to the screen, selecting what should be the first video. Dean turns up the volume.  
  
  
  
_[The camera is shaky and appears to be pointed at the ground, a boring low-pile carpet in brown, broken up with speckles of cream threads.]  
_  
  
**Sam** : “... his brother and I’m his best friend, yeah. So yeah, they know each other. Guys, knock it off for like two seconds.”  
  
**Eileen** : “They’re practically married already.”  
  
**Stranger** : “Alright gotcha. Thank you for coming by to confirm that they’re not blood-related and that they are in a relationship. They’re just a little, um, intoxicated so we like to be extra careful. We’ll just need signatures and payment.”  
  
**Dean** : “No problemo-o-o-o-o.”  
  
  
_[There are some scuffling noises as people shift around. The video stops.]  
  
_  
  
Dean let out his breath. “Okay, okay, other than sounding like a completely drunk moron, not too bad.” He cues up the next video.  
  
  
  
_[The camera moves around violently, showing Eileen’s eye, a blink of black as the viewfinder is changed, and then the focus settles on Dean and Cas standing face-to-face in a dim alcove.]  
_  
  
**Dean** : ‘Kay, we are both dudes here. ‘M not the chick, yer not the chick. We walk down tog’ther. Hey, yer a dude.  
  
**Cas** : I am aware.  
  
**Dean** : Nah, jus thought ya liked girls.  
  
**Cas** : _[tilts head]_ No, I like you.  
  
**Dean** : _[grabs fistfuls of Cas’ shirt, pressing their foreheads together]_ Mmm… jus like? You dun love me?  
  
**Cas** : Of course I do, Dean.  
  
**Dean** : I love the way you same my name.  
  
**Sam** : _[walks into frame and blocks them from camera, slaps them both on the back]_ Okay, Romeos, ready.  
  
  
_[Sam steps off to the right side. Dean holds his arm out for Cas, Cas holds his arm out for Dean.]  
_  
  
**Dean** : No way, take my arm.  
  
**Cas:** No.  
  
**Dean** : Then there’s only one way to settle this.  
  
**Cas** : _[rolls his eyes and holds out one hand palm up with the other hand fisted above it]_ Yeah, I know.  
  
**Sam** : _[moves to Eileen’s side to whisper]_ Are they really playing Rock-Paper-Scissors to see who takes whose arm?  
  
**Eileen** : Shhhhh, enjoy the moment.  
  
  
_[Cas wins and smirks at Dean, holding his arm out. Dean slips his arm in and leans heavily on him with a shy smile. They turn to face the left and begin walking out of view. Eileen moves to a new position so she is behind them, walking a little distance behind. The men trip and stumble, trying to hold each other up, laughing and then trying to not laugh, making them laugh harder.]_ _  
_ _  
_ _[Eileen takes a seat in the aisle seat of the second pew from the front, the blur of Sam squeezing past her momentarily taking up the screen. A white-haired gentleman joins the men at a traditional-looking altar. Dean and Cas face each other, holding hands loosely. The camera position shows Dean’s face and the back of Cas’ head.]  
  
_

**Minister:** Would either of you would like to say a few words to the other? Let’s start with you. _[he indicates Dean]_ _  
_  
_[The camera jolts up and down briefly as Sam taps Eileen’s arm for her to look at him.]_  
  
**Sam** : They’re so drunk they can hardly stand. I hope they don’t puke. Think they’ll remember this?  
  
**Eileen** : _[laughs]_ That’s what the video is for. Evidence.  
  
**Dean** : ---everything. I, um, really, really... _[sighs loudly]_ ... really suck at this. But, I love ya, Cas. More than a brother. I know, I know I said it. Like a million times. I saw you in that barn and I was nervous ‘cause I din’nt know who you were and then you were fucking hot… _[looks at minister]_ Uh, sorry, cover thine virginal ears.  
  
  
_[Minister just smiles; Dean turns back to Cas.]  
_  
  
**Dean** : And you got me. Right off the bat, you knew, like ev-er-y-thing. And ya din’nt run, didn’t judge. I mean, ya fell from heaven, Cas, to follow us. So yeah, it started off likin’ ya but I realized… I can’t live without you, Cas. It kills me when yer gone. You’d die for me, hell, you have. And I’d do the same, in a heartbeat. We always find each other, right? That’s gotta mean somethin’.

_[Minister is looking a little wary throughout the latter half of Dean’s vows.]  
  
_

**Dean** : Yer my best friend and I want you, only you. I need ya, Cas. _[Dean reaches for Cas’ face and kisses him]_

 **Minister** : We aren’t to that part yet, gentleman. And now you? _[Minister indicates Cas]_

 **Cas** : Hello, Dean.  
  
**Dean** : _[grins]_ Hi, Cas.  
  
**Cas** : _[he sounds less slurred and more composed, voice thick and husky]_ Your soul is so beautiful. I have seen billions upon billions of souls, and even at your darkest, it still shone bright. _[Cas tilts his head at Dean]_ I supposed we got it backward, all of it. You saw me outwardly first and I saw you inwardly first, a mutual attraction, but somewhere along the way we met in the middle and attraction became devotion and love.  
  
  
_[The minister clears his throat quietly and takes a half-step back.]  
_  
  
**Cas** : _[looks down at joined hands]_ It has been an honor to be your friend, your comrade, your brother. And now it will be my honor to be your husband. I will take care of you, like I always have, but better because I’ll stay and always be there for you. And I’m sorry for---  
  
**Eileen** : Translate for me later. I can’t see him.  
  
**Sam** : I will.  
  
**Cas** : ---believing in me even when I was so lost. I love you, Dean.  
  
**Minister** : Do you have rings?  
  
  
_[Sam blurs the viewfinder as he gets up and walks past again, walking into the frame as he approaches the men, reaching into his pocket to pull out two gold bands. He hands one to each of the men. Sam turns back and is smiling, eyes teary. Viewfinder is blurry as Sam slips past Eileen to resume his seat.]  
_  
  
**Eileen** : It says you’re running out of mem---  
  
  
_[Video stops.]  
  
_  
  
The suite is silent except for their breathing. Dean sniffles once and looks over to say something but Cas instantly captures his lips. Dean drops his phone onto the carpet in favor of holding Cas’ cheek, his other hand settling on the back of the couch as he twists his body closer. Cas deepens the kiss, pushing Dean down against the cushions, the hand on the couch coming down to press between Cas’ shoulderblades.  
  
Cas kisses a trail from the corner of Dean’s mouth down to the sensitive area where the hinge of jaw meets neck, rough stubble poking and tickling his lips. “You said you love me, that you’ll stay,” Dean gasps, both hands now at Cas’ back, pressing him closer.  
  
“Mm, you love me,” Cas murmurs. “You want me.” Cas moves further down Dean’s neck, over his throat, his hands slipping under the t-shirt to tickle along Dean’s ribs, delighting in the grunts Dean makes as he tries to hold back laughter, his body trembling. “You need me.” Cas raises himself up to look down at Dean’s face, placing one hand on either side of his face to keep him aloft.  
  
“Always,” Dean breathes. He strains his neck upward to tease Cas’ lips with the tip of his tongue, hands trailing down Cas’ back and toward his...  
  
A loud pounding comes at the door. The arms holding Cas up go weak and he lets his full body weight down, groaning into Dean’s neck at the interruption.  
  
“Shit, I swear to fucking fuck that if my brother ever cock-blocks me again I’ll deck ‘im.”  
  
Cas pushes up and off of Dean so they can both straighten their clothes. “Just think about something really disgusting,” Dean instructs him as he shimmies his way to the door, taking a minute to calm himself before opening it wide.  
  
Cas tries to think about cosmetic testing on animals and the declining bee population, which helps his erection to soften. He marvels that Dean’s advice worked and wishes he had known this tip sooner. It would have been handy during the human parts of his existence. As an angel he’d just let his vessel calm itself down. But as a human the arousals could become unbearable if not dealt with.  
  
“Come on in. We were just sitting here twiddling our thumbs and reading children’s Bible stories,” Dean drawls out dryly.  
  
“Uh, sure. Your faces look totally innocent and not beard-burned at all. Unless, of course, you were rubbing your faces on the carpet as you read these alleged stories?” Sam says as he looks his brother’s face over. Dean turns startled eyes to Cas and they both take in their pink faces and reddened lips. Cas winks at him which makes Dean smile.  
  
“If you guys want privacy we can always go find something else to do,” Eileen says. “Seriously, no problem.”  
  
Dean blows out a puff of air. “Nah, it’s cool. I’ll just make out with him in the pool and embarrass my little brother. It’s my God-given right. Let’s go.”  
  
“Actually, I don’t think God gave you that right,” Cas says as Dean slips an arm around his waist.  
  
“Joke, Cas. It’s a joke.”  
  
“Ah, right.”  
  
They head down to the pool, the smell of chlorine assaulting them from clear down the hall next to the elevator. Part of the pool is sectioned off for diving, another section for laps. There is a small net set up in a corner but the rest is free-swim.  
  
It is indoor with a vaulted glass ceiling, allowing the sun to shine down. The large glass windows around the perimeter of the room are cranked open to let some of the stuffy heat out. It’s a late Sunday afternoon and there’s only one couple there, in the hot tub, most other families and guests having checked out that morning to head back to home and jobs and school.  
  
“You ever been swimmin’, Cas?” Dean let’s go of his waist and tosses a towel onto a chaise.  
  
“I have not. It looks pleasant enough, I suppose.”  
  
As Eileen plugs her ears with little balls of pliable wax she says, “Hey, we should play water volleyball. There’s a ball over there.” Sam lightly jogs over to grab the ball she had pointed to with her chin.  
  
“Hey, no running,” Dean yells obnoxiously to Sam, his voice amplified. He turns to Eileen, unable to mask his curiosity. “What are you putting in your ears?”  
  
“I can’t get water in my ears. I could get infection. This is swimmer’s wax.”  
  
Dean nods and strips off his shirt, Cas follows suit and walks over to the steps that lead into the water. He takes the first step, water coming up to his ankles. “That is a lot colder than I thought it would be.”  
  
“You just have to take a deep breath and dunk yourself real fast, get the shock of it over with.”  
  
Cas steps back out. “No, I don’t think so.”  
  
“Aw, come on, Cas. We need you to play volleyball. We can’t have uneven teams,” Eileen says.  
  
“Well, we could, because Sam’s arms are long enough for him to be his own team,” Dean says and laughs at his own joke. “But seriously, Cas, get in the pool.”  
  
Cas shakes his head, intending to walk around and watch them from a chaise. He’s never been fond of areas of water that are larger than a bathtub.  
  
“Alright, you leave me no choice. Hold your breath,” Dean yells and the next thing Cas knows he’s under water from the impact of Dean’s body. They both surface and Cas struggles to get his feet under him.  
  
“Whoa, just stand up, it’s cool. It’s not that deep here,” Dean says comfortingly, using his arms to help him find balance.  
  
Cas feels like a cat in water and he wants out, his body screaming at him. The sensation of being surrounded in the fluid, the cold and wet of it. His teeth start chattering. “Nuh-uh, no. I don’t like this, Dean.”  
  
“C’mere.” They make their way over to the edge but don’t get out. “Just hold onto the wall and get used to it.”  
  
Sam and Eileen jump in somewhere to their right and start tossing the ball back-and-forth over the net. Cas focuses on them for a minute and breathes. “Sorry. I’ve never swam before.”  
  
“Meh, me neither, not really. You’d think we’d have more swimming under our belts from all the motel hopping but most of ‘em were out of service or disgusting. Mostly the places were too poor for the upkeep and didn’t have one.”  
  
Dean moves closer, the water lapping against Cas’ chest. He can feel his body temperature regulating, the water feeling warmer than it had before. “You don’t have to stay here if you want to go play, Dean.”  
  
“Hmm, do I want to go play a ball game and leave you here or do I want to wrap my legs around you and kiss you breathless? Tough choice. Don’t move, the water will make me feel virtually weightless.”  
  
Dean puts his hands on Cas’ shoulder and wraps his legs around Cas’ hips. He presses their foreheads together, something Dean seems to like doing a lot, and looks into Cas’ eyes. Cas automatically wraps his arms around Dean's body to help hold Dean up but he feels like he weighs next to nothing, letting the water buoy him.  
  
Dean kisses him deep and slow, flicking his brother the middle finger over Cas’ shoulder when Sam starts complaining and splashing water at them from afar, the droplets falling short.  
  
“Two can play that game, you know,” Sam says, eyebrows high, hands on hips. “Alright, both of you get your asses over here and let’s play.”  
  
Dean breaks away. “Whaddya say we go over there and beat ‘em? You good now?”  
  
Cas swallows and pecks his lips one more time, letting Dean go. “I will try.”  
  
“That’s my boy! Come on, race ya.”  
  
It turns out neither of them can swim. They both pathetically dog-paddle and slow-motion run and hop toward the net. The water is a foot shorter on this end, coming to just above Cas’ belly button.  
  
Dean claps his hands and rubs them together when he’s in position. “Alright, the Winchesters versus Winchester-Leahy. Prepare to get smoked.”  
  
They do a few practice rounds so Cas can understand the rules and get comfortable. The lower water level helps his anxiety and soon the fun distracts him enough that he forgets the water stretching out behind him in the Olympic-sized pool.  
  
It turns out Sam’s long arms and Eileen’s athletic prowess work to their advantage, and they win the game 11 to 6.  
  
“Do you wanna swim anymore or go back up?” Dean asks him, inspecting his wrinkled fingers. He looks tired.  
  
“I am finished, yes.” Cas looks around the empty pool, the water expanse looking shifty and murky as it gently sways from the filtration system. The steps look really far away but Sam is at the side, pulling himself up and out, foregoing the stairs. Cas decides to do the same.  
  
He pulls his body up smoothly and slips out of the water, his body heavy like lead and the air cold on his wet skin. He strides over to his towel and starts rubbing his hair vigorously, wiping the towel up his muscled arms, chest, torso. He tugs his trunks up, the water weight dragging them down on his hips. He catches Dean watching him, dripping wet instead of drying off. “What?”  
  
Dean licks his lips. “Nothing.” He grabs his own towel, smiling softly, continuing to watch Cas, something silent passing between them.  
  
“Okay, we’re heading out,” Sam says close to Dean’s ear, clapping him on the shoulder.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come up?” Dean asks half-heartedly.  
  
“Hell no,” Eileen says. “You two look ready to devour one another. Have fun!”  
  
“Yeah, man, between the hangovers, lack of sleep, crap food… I’m beat. We’re going to go back to the hotel and watch something, probably pass out. You kids have fun. Pick us up at 11 tomorrow for the drive.”  
  
Dean grins. “You got it. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”  
  
Sam makes big eyes at his brother and motions him to shut his mouth before turning to Eileen so they can walk to the locker rooms and change into the clothes they brought along.  
  
“My brother’s got a point. I could go for a nap,” Dean says as they walk through the door of their room. Dean rummages around for clean clothes and showers off in the bathroom, coming out clean of chlorine.  
  
Cas takes his turn, trying to stifle yawn after yawn. When he emerges he finds Dean fully clothed and face down on the bed, snoring softly. He hits the lights and walks over to the left side of the bed, looking down at his husband. Husband.  
  
Dean is too close to the edge for Cas to straddle him and rub his back, as Dean had done earlier, so instead he leans over and begins softly rubbing. It startles Dean. “Hush, shhhh. Take off your shirt and I’ll rub your back. You can sleep.”  
  
Dean sleepily chucks it off, and scoots over closer to the center of the bed, laying back down. Cas is exhausted but it’s getting later and later. He doesn’t want Dean to miss the one thing he seemed to look forward to most. He gets on the bed and puts one knee on either side of Dean, who is already fast asleep.  
  
He starts with Dean’s head, pressing fingertips firmly against his scalp, his hair feather light and ticklish. Cas moves down to his neck, walks his hands out and back in along the top of his shoulders, then uses the heels of his hands to make several small, tight circular motions into muscle.  
  
Dean’s body relaxes and become soft under Cas’ hands, slipping him into deep sleep as his muscles get the tension rubbed out of them, tenderness and love in each touch. When Cas is done he leaves a kiss in Dean’s hairline and falls asleep next to him, draping an arm over his back.  
  
He dreams of Dean, of sun-dappled hair and the smell of leather, cold steel and sweaty beer bottles. He dreams of skin on skin, lips on skin, lips on lips. There is laughter and light. It is the first time he can remember sleeping without having a nightmare.  
  
Cas wakes to Dean nuzzling the space behind his ear. “Wake up, Sunshine. I called room service for dinner and they should be here any minute.”  
  
They eat dinner on the couch and flick through the channels on their TV until they land on a channel showing old reruns, like I Love Lucy and The Three Stooges. The show on now appears to have a talking horse named Ed. Cas opens the bottle of champagne, passing Dean a flute. They both make faces at the fuzzy drink and laugh. It's disgusting.  
  
“Beer? See what’s in that mini bar over there,” Dean jerks his chin toward the kitchenette.  
  
“We’ve got half a dozen sodas, half a dozen beers, tiny wines, juice and various liquors. This one is vodka. Uh, this one is tequila.”  
  
“Just beer,” Dean chuckles. “I’m so not drinking the hard stuff tonight.”  
  
Cas brings four beers over, two for each of them. He lets Dean pop them open with his keyring and settles back down next to him, the only light in the room from the flashing scenes of the television show. By the time he’s drank his last sip, the closeness of Dean laying against his shoulder is maddening.  
  
“You said you had plans for that big tub-”  
  
“Jacuzzi.”  
  
“Okay, plans for the jacuzzi?”  
  
Dean sits up and looks at him, looks back at the television screen but appears to be thinking and not watching. He looks back. “Look, I’m gonna go as slow as you want. But if you want anything, if you wanna do anything, just let me know, ‘kay?”  
  
Cas stares at him, trying to read between the lines. Humans can mean so many things in so many ways. He thinks he understands but wants to be sure. “Are we talking about sex?”  
  
Dean laughs out a breath of air. “Uh, yeah. What’d you think I was talkin’ about?”  
  
“Dean, get in that bathroom, right now,” Cas orders, standing up. He half expects Dean to become indignant or argue at his tone but instead he grins and knocks his legs into the coffee table, skirts around it and walks backward toward the dark room, pulling Cas along.  
  
Dean leans down to turn the water on, reaching the tub first. The temptation to stand behind him, grab his hips, and grind him while the tub fills is too great. Cas doesn’t resist. Dean heaves a deep sigh and stays bent over, rocking back into him, the layers of their sweatpants causing teasing, itchy friction. Cas guides him up and grabs the hem of Dean’s t-shirt, pulling him out of it, landing a kiss to the back of his neck as he tosses the shirt aside. Dean turns in his arms and pulls Cas’ off, they scramble for pants. The tub is only a quarter full.  
  
Cas rubs a thumb over Dean’s lips, a tongue slipping out to tease him. He raises his brows at Dean, keeping eye contact as he switches to a forefinger. He presses it against Dean’s lip but instead of licking it Dean opens his mouth and tips his head forward, sucking it in. Cas’ heart rate picks up speed, blood rushing to his extremities. He adds a second finger, Dean’s velvet tongue swirling around them, suckling them against his palate, with a little scrape of teeth as Cas pulls them out.  
  
“Get in,” Cas says, following behind. The tub is just over half full. He sits on one of the little ledged seats and pulls Dean onto his lap. “Don’t touch,” he murmurs, when Dean makes a move to grab him, instead wrapping his arms about Cas’ neck, hands at the back of his hair. They pant and lick into one another’s mouths until they’re breathless and rock hard.  
  
Cas tilts his head back, letting Dean nuzzle and bite and suck the thin flesh there, his pulse beating hard against Dean's tongue. He tries to suppress a groan when the nibbles turn back to feathery kisses. Between each light brush against Cas' neck Dean breathes out words. “Cas? What do- do you- what’re we doing?”  
  
“I want to be closer, to be in you," he says quietly.   
  
Dean hesitates, adjusting himself so he can look into Cas' eyes. “Are- are you sure?”  
  
“Do you want to do it, or should I?” At the question Dean swallows and his breathing pattern changes. He looks debauched, eager and willing which is all Cas can ask for because he’d never actually force him.  
  
“You do it. I wanna feel you.” Dean shifts again, reaching out of the tub for the toiletry bag he had discarded after his last shower. Or perhaps Dean had planted it close by on purpose, Cas isn’t sure, but the idea that Dean anticipated something happening made him feel electrified.  
  
Dean is still kneeling over the tub around Cas, digging through his bag, his body torso stretched and inviting. Cas licks one long line up his abdomen and blows gently until Dean shivers. Cas can hear the sound of plastic bottles and crinkly foil spilling onto the floor.  
  
“No, shit- not that one. Wait, here it is. Got it,” Dean says triumphantly, returning to sit back down around Cas in the water. He's holding his small travel-sized, pump action bottle of waterproof lube and shakes it gleefully at Cas but then looks down at the water and shuts the faucet off. They both forgot the rising water. Dean punches the button for the jets and they kick on in short spurts, ejecting air under the surface to kick up a bubbly noise that masks their panted breaths.  
  
Cas plucks the bottle from Dean’s hand and gently pulls Dean down to him, leisurely pressing their lips together, sliding his tongue in and out of Dean's lips, distracting Dean as he slicks up a few of his fingers. Dean's fingers are back in his hair, pulling them close, waiting expectantly and urging Cas on. Dean’s breath hitches against Cas’ mouth as he slips a finger inside.  
  
“I can take it, it’s okay,” Dean murmurs to the corner of Cas’ mouth, resuming the soft kisses he's peppering along Cas' face. “It’s okay.” All Cas can think is that he wants in and wants in now. Dean is snug and hot and the lubrication is creamy and inviting, but he has to be patient. Dean’s comfort will always come before him. At Dean’s prompting he slowly slides in a second digit. Dean drops his head to his shoulder and moans low, tugging on his hair, moving his body, both of them working him open.  
  
“You,” Dean says after a few minutes of working him with three long fingers. “Please.”  
  
Cas swallows, removing himself to cup Dean’s face. “Are _you_ sure,” he whispers.  
  
“Hell yes,” Dean says, the words strained and desperate but stern in their conviction. Cas can’t withhold his smile at Dean’s response but it falters as his nerves and longing overwhelm him. “You don’t need anything,” Dean continues when Cas hesitates and eyes the half-spilled contents of the toiletry bag on the floor, including the silver-foiled squares. “I’ve always used protection but not gonna with you. I wanna feel you.”  
  
“Dean,” Cas groans, tilting his head back against the tub ledge and closing his eyes. The idea that he can be a first for Dean in some capacity stirs something possessively primal within him. His hands shake as he pumps the thick lube into his hands and stands momentarily to coat himself, his cock throbbing in want for so long, too long. Dean rises and lowers himself back into the water with Cas, kissing him and murmuring encouraging words. Cas reclines back, pulling Dean to him as he goes, the water tickling over flushed skin as it shifts around.   
  
Dean holds onto Cas' shoulders for leverage and winks at him before he takes a steadying breath and presses down just enough for Cas to push through the band of taut muscle, enveloping only his glans. Dean tenses and stills at the slight burning sensation, muscles involuntarily pulsing around Cas as Dean breathes through it.   
  
“I’ve got you, Dean,” Cas stutters, blinking away the haze that has overcome him, resisting the urge to push in further before Dean is ready. He watches Dean's face and wants to memorize each micro-expression, each second of this time together. He reaches up a hand from Dean's trembling thighs to cup his cheek, heart warming as Dean closes his eyes at the gentle touch and turns to press a kiss into his palm.  
  
Dean continues to lower himself at a tortuously slow pace, rising a little and coming back down further, rising a little and coming down even further, until he's fully resting on Cas' lap. Both of them relax into it, exhaling shaky breaths and taking the moment to feel one another without moving, one of them wrapped tight, the other filled up snug.  
  
He is inside Dean, and Dean is all around him, one with him. The only time they were ever closer was in hell when he repaired his soul and that was not sexual in nature, but very intimate. Cas swallows down the lump in his throat and blinks rapidly at the memories that pour in, of the longing that has been pulling him toward Dean from nearly the start. Pulling him to this place and this time, where he belongs to Dean and Dean belongs to him. He loves him, purely and wholly.  
  
Cas wants to move, needs to move, and feel the slide of Dean over him but he waits, instead shifting his body to sit up straighter so he can reach Dean's lips. He holds him tightly to his chest, bringing an arm up along Dean's back, a hand at his neck, to keep Dean from falling backward. They are pressed skin and hungry lips and wet and full and tight. Cas presses fingertips along Dean's body, wraps him and pulls him close. When they do start move it is slow at first, Dean sliding up and then back down several times before they both find a rhythm, Dean coming down as Cas hitches up, the pace gradually increasing.  
  
The feel of rocking into Dean's body pulls little gasps and exhales forth, that he trails along Dean's slippery skin. Cas catches starry eyes, holds them, and they share half-smiles from parted lips. Cas remembers Dean's ignored cock between them and grasps it, pumping him as Dean rides his lap. Dean wants more, whispers it along with his name, as he works his legs around Cas' lower back in an effort to pull him in deeper. Cas has never loved being in water so much in his life, it's density allowing them to move in ways they couldn't on dry land.  
  
Cas moves the hand from Dean's neck to a shoulder, pushing Dean down as he pushes his own hips up, his other hand synchronizing what they're bodies are doing to the slide and pull along Dean's shaft, a thumb pressing on the head, a few gentle twists. He can already recognize the telltale signs that Dean is close: his body tenses, his rhythm stutters, eyes squeeze shut.  
  
“Open your eyes, look at me,” Cas breathes. “Dean.”  
  
Dean’s eyes snap open, tears releasing from the outer corners of each eye as he shudders and groans, a ribbon of milky white decorating the surface of the water that swirls between and around them. Cas guides him through the orgasm, pumping him slower and gently as his own orgasm spills into Dean. The surprised O of Dean’s mouth as pulsing warmth fills him turns into a slow smile and he shudders again at the sensation he's never felt before.  
  
They press together, chests rising and falling from exertion, before Dean slides off of him to adjust his seat across Cas' thighs. Dean grows serious and takes his face between soaked hands, his eyes still shining with tears as he studies Cas.  
  
Cas feels a stab of panic that he has hurt or upset Dean, his nerves and body still quivering from his anxiousness, the physical exertion and the ecstasy of having done the most beautiful thing with the most beautiful person. Dean has had so many sexual experiences to compare to that Cas worries he didn't possibly measure up. Nothing has felt more right, he couldn't bear the rejection and embarrassment if Dean said it was a mistake and changed his mind.  
  
But no, there is a quake of a lip and a ghost of a smile that grows as Dean leans in to kiss him tenderly. Cas remembers that humans don't always cry because they're sad. They cry because they're happy, too. He knows this because he felt it in the Impala earlier that day and even moments ago. 

Still, he has to ask, his mind reeling with too many doubts about himself. “Dean?”

“Oh no, it's okay. I'm okay. You were… awesome.” Dean lets out a pffft of air and rolls his eyes at himself, a light laugh escaping his lips. “You _feel_ … amazing. You look amazing. I want to do that with you every damn day, okay?”

Cas’ furrowed brow smooths out but he is still uncertain, still concerned. “Dean, _w_ _hy_ are you upset?” He thumbs over Dean's temple where a tear had slid across, tilting his head as he considers the face before him, freckled with droplets of water on blood-flushed pink cheeks.

Dean’s expression grows soft, eyes tender. “I’m not upset. I just never thought…” Dean swallows the rest of his words, gesturing between them but doesn’t finish his statement. He ducks his head and tries again. “You're it for me, no one compares. Like, at all.”  
  
“Dean,” Cas says softly, reverently.  
  
“Just tell me, promise me, that you're never gonna leave. That we can do this, together. No more running off to do scary shit solo, no more of that ‘not talking to protect your loved ones’ bullshit.”

Dean’s hands are still holding his face, still searching his eyes. Dean has asked him of this many times over the weekend. If he has to reassure him everyday that he isn't going anywhere without him then that is what he will do. Cas places his hands over Dean’s and pulls them off of his cheeks, placing them to his chest, over his heart instead. “I will never leave. It is you and me to the end.”

Dean sighs in what appears to be exhausted relief and puts his arms around Cas’ in an embrace, pressing his face into Cas’ collarbone. “God, I'm being such a girl, sorry.”

“Expressing feelings isn't reserved solely for females,” Cas replies, his voice muffled against Dean’s neck where he has buried his face, breathing deeply, soaking up Dean's scent and warmth. Dean chuckles. They hold each other there until the water grows cold.  
  
The next morning they pack up, they make coffee and eat breakfast. Dean feeds Cas a cinnamon bun and then smashes it into his face, which results in a little bit of chasing and rolling around on the carpet, Dean licking and kissing the sticky mess off.  
  
They debate throwing out the dumped-out champagne bottle but Dean sneaks it into his bag, wrapped up in a dirty shirt to protect it, the sentimental bastard.    
  
At the door they turn back to look at the suite with arms around one another. They take in the still rumpled bed and sunbeams streaming into the window as a wild nightlife city in the distance lay quiet by the light of day.  
  
“Gonna miss it. This was by far the best weekend I’ve ever had in Vegas.” Dean squeezes Cas closer.  
  
Cas smiles. “Let’s go home, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my story! I probably need to edit and refine a few things but I hope the emotions and general feelings got through to you, dear reader. I just felt inspired one day and didn't really find any Vegas-Destiel fics that satisfied what I was looking for, so I wrote my own. 
> 
> Fun fact: I deliberately put a reference to the episode "The End" (5X04) in every single one of my fics. Did you find it here? It was this line from Cas near, well, the end: “I will never leave. It is you and me to the end," and was based on the ORIGINAL line he was supposed to say on the show: "The only thing we have left, Dean and me, is each other." My firm belief is that that episode was showing us Dean's future: that Cas would always be by his side (fast forward to S10 and Cas telling Dean, "Everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead... everyone except me" which further cements that idea). They are each other's endgames. Can I get an amen?! 
> 
> Also, I wasn't sure how I was going to end the fic because endings are so hard. But I knew that THIS TIME it would be CAS saying that it was time to go home, not Dean. I'm so ready for Cas to do that on the friggin' show. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, bunnies. Please leave me comments to let me know what you thought. I read them ALL and they make my heart feel so full. 
> 
>    
> XO,  
> TheTwistedWillow


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